


Secundus 2: Weird Weird West

by Crossover_Chick



Series: The Secundus Verse [3]
Category: American McGee's Alice, Back to the Future (Movies), Corpse Bride (2005)
Genre: (At least for BTTF III), (I've fit every member of the McFly Clan I could think of into this), Adventure & Romance, Canon-Typical Violence, Danger, Extended Families, F/M, Fatherhood, Gen, Light Angst, Love at First Sight, Mad Science, Mad Scientists, Multi, Pregnancy, Weddings, and worries about same
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-25
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-02-26 08:02:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 109,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21950020
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crossover_Chick/pseuds/Crossover_Chick
Summary: It's been roughly two years after Victor was accidentally kidnapped to Secundus, and he's settled in quite nicely, with a wife, a lab, and a baby on the way. But when a long-awaited invitation to Marty McFly's wedding back in Hill Valley arrives, it sets in motion a series of unexpected trials for him and his friends. Victor managed to conquer, so to speak, the Mad Science Capital of the World -- but how is he going to do against enemies old and new in the Wild Wild West?
Relationships: Emily (Corpse Bride)/Mad Hatter, Emmett "Doc" Brown/Clara Clayton, Marty McFly/Jennifer Parker, Victor Van Dort/Alice Liddell (American McGee's Alice), Victoria Everglot/White Knight (Alice in Wonderland)
Series: The Secundus Verse [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/784956
Comments: 26
Kudos: 21





	1. A Long Awaited Invite

**Author's Note:**

> Hey folks! Been a while, huh? Well, the long wait is more or less over -- here we have the first chapter of "Secundus 2!" I hope you enjoy!

August 4th, 1882

Secundus, England

11:37 A.M.

"Victor! Mail's here!"

"Just a moment!" Victor called back. He made a minute adjustment to the array of magnifying lenses mounted on his googles, then leaned in, focusing hard through the layers and layers of curved glass. _All right. . .j_ _ust another dab of nutrient glue_ here _. . .and on the forewing. . .and – in!_

The hindwing landed perfectly in place, sealing itself against the butterfly's body in seconds. Victor grinned, sitting up straight and pushing his goggles into his hair. "There we go," he said, giving the trembling insect imprisoned on the surgery towel a comforting stroke with a finger. "Wasn't so bad, was it?" He felt the edges of the wing to make sure the glue was holding, then carefully removed the metal loop holding the butterfly down. "I'm sorry it's not an _exact_ match for what you had before, but it was the closest I had."

The butterfly fluttered its newly-repaired appendage. Then, apparently satisfied, it took off, sailing easily to a nearby flower and balancing itself on a petal as it unrolled its proboscis for a well-earned drink. "Oh, what? No gratitude?" Victor teased it, standing. "Pah. That's what I get for working with creatures with such primitive brains." He folded his arms with a chuckle. "At least it makes it easy to show you, show you all."

"Victor?"

"Coming!" Victor quickly folded the towel, then shoved it, his scissors, his loop, and his glue in the top drawer. "Sorry about the delay," he continued as he made his way to the conservatory door, weaving with practiced grace around the various other creatures flitting about. "I just – oof!"

His chin hit the floor with a painful _crack!_ , making him wince. "Damn it. . . ." He pushed himself up and looked back, to find his toe half-under a familiar loose tile. "One of these days I'll remember to repair that."

 _click – creeak. . . ._ "Did you just trip again?" Alice's voice came, filtering through the "let's not have any more of Victor's Inventions escape into the house" net.

"Yes," Victor admitted, standing up and rubbing his jaw.

"You really have to cement that thing down."

"I know." Victor stomped it back into place, then slipped through the net. "I just never remember because I never hit it when I go _in_."

"Well, try," Alice said, backing up so he could close the door behind him. "One of these days you're going to seriously hurt yourself."

"I've managed to survive this long," Victor said, feeling his chin for blood. "But yes, remind me later today to go back in there with a bit of glue, will you?" He sighed, then bent to kiss her cheek. "Sorry for not coming right away – I was in surgery."

"Oh, right – the monarch with the broken hindwing?"

"Yup – all better now," Victor said with a proud smile. "I've gotten quite good at that operation, I think."

"I would hope – you've done it enough," Alice replied, booping his nose. She held up an envelope. "Anyway – special delivery!"

"Oh, another letter from Doc and Marty?" Victor asked, accepting the missive with a grin.

"Well, I think so. It's got their name on it, but–" Alice tapped the envelope. "It's awfully _stiff_ for a letter. Feels almost like pasteboard."

"Could be another set of pictures," Victor offered up, working a finger under the flap. "I asked last time if they could give us an update on how that clock tower is coming along." He glanced at her. "Incidentally, you _can_ just open these yourself. I don't mind. They're your friends too."

"Perhaps, but I like seeing your face light up whenever the latest bit of news arrives," Alice told him, smiling. "Besides, you're the one who was actually _living_ with them when you first got here. I think that allows you first dibs at their mail."

Victor laughed softly. "Well, all right, when you put it like _that_. . . ." He ripped open the top. "Let's see. . .oh, looks like you were right – it's a card of some sort." He pulled it out. "But we're nowhere near the – oh!"

"Is that–" Alice started, peering over his arm.

"It is! 'Mr. and Mrs. George McFly and Mr. Robert Parker are pleased to invite you to the wedding of their children, Master Martin McFly and Miss Jennifer Parker – September 7th, 1882, 8:00 A.M., at the Hill Valley First Congregational Church, Hill Valley, California,'" Victor read, beaming. "'Formal dress please. R.S.V.P. requested.' He's finally asked her!"

"About bloody time!" Alice plucked the card from his hand for a better look. "They've been together since before we knew him." She turned it over, then grinned up at her husband. "And is it just me, or does this particular design look familiar?"

"I'm not about to begrudge him stealing any ideas from Aunt Susan," Victor replied, laughing. "After all, she did an excellent job putting together _our_ wedding." He felt around in the envelope. "Oh, and there's a note as well. . . . 'Dear Victor and Alice,'" he began, smoothing the piece of paper out as best he could. "'Hope you guys are doing well! As you can see, the big news of the month is that Jennifer and I are making it official! Which means I finally get to see you guys in person again! About time I introduced my _other_ best man to Jennifer and the rest of the McFly clan, huh?' Wait, other best–"

"Victor, you had both him and Doc stand up for you at our wedding," Alice reminded him. "Why wouldn't he do the same?"

"Ah, yes, he says as much in the next line," Victor admitted, blushing. "Anyway – 'Unfortunately, despite practically _begging_ the guy on our knees, Mayor Gillin's _still_ refusing to let Doc fly the train out to get anybody. Dude can hold a grudge. So Doc tracked down a fast-travel airship company that can get you to San Francisco from Secundus. Then it's just a day trip down to Hill Valley on the local earthbound rail. He's written down everything you need to know on the other side. Soonest you should get here is September 1st – don't worry, we'll put you up for the week. Mom and Dad are already getting the basement ready. Anyway, RSVP as soon as you can! I'm really hoping you can make it – it just wouldn't be the same without you. Say hi to Lightning for me! Sincerely, Marty."

Alice shook her head. "Two years they've been back, and that mayor _still_ hasn't realized they have no intention of blowing up the place."

"Yes, well, we're long past the second anniversary of my arrival in Secundus," Victor pointed out, flipping the paper over to examine Doc's notes. "You don't see my parents trying to make amends, do you?"

Alice's face went dark. "Point. Your mother's probably still convinced you're under mind control."

"Mmmm. . .at this point, I wouldn't be surprised if they told anyone who asked that I'd died here," Victor admitted, sighing. "I mean – we know how they think. Better a deceased son than a Touched one."

"If _that's_ the case, perhaps _we_ should start telling people that _they_ died during the Queen's attack." Alice huffed, running her fingers through her hair. "Well, they made their decision, and we've happily abided by it. Let's not spare them another thought." She peered at the paper. "What company did Doc find?"

"The Over-Oceans Fabulous Flyer Corporation," Victor told her. He chuckled as he ran his finger down Doc's meticulous list of dates and times. "He's been exceedingly thorough, as usual. Everything down to the exact minute – he's even estimated how long it should take us to get from the house to their docking station!"

"Would you expect anything less from someone who's spent the better part of their life working on a time machine?" Alice replied with a grin. "I can't deny it's handy for our planning purposes, though. If he was kind enough to provide a phone number, I'll call and book the trip right now."

"Yes, it's–"

Victor stopped as a sudden thought entered his head. "Um. . . ."

"What?" Alice asked, arching an eyebrow.

"I – it's just – it's a long trip, even by airship. . . ."

"You cannot possibly _not_ want to go," Alice said, staring. "These are your _best friends_! One of them is getting _married_! Asking you to be a _best man_!"

"Oh, no, of course I want to go!" Victor cried, waving a hand. "Almost more than anything else in the world! It's just. . . ." His eyes strayed downward, to the swollen curve of her belly. "Should – should we _all_ go?"

Oh no. He'd known that was stupid the moment he'd said it. And now Alice was giving him _the Look_. "What have I told you about treating me like a china doll?" she asked coolly, folding her arms.

"Alice–"

"I have made all my doctor visits punctually, and every time, Dr. Lawn tells me I am in excellent health," she continued, pinning him with her stare like a butterfly in a box. "I was _working_ up until a couple of weeks ago. I still _would_ be if Richard hadn't insisted I take some time off, and promised to pay me for it. I still make my own meals, and get myself dressed, and dust the house, and generally exist _without_ special treatment. Particularly the kind that stops me from seeing my friends as well."

"I know, I know," Victor said, holding up his hands as he tried to ward off the storm brewing in her eyes. "It's just – it's a long trip. Practically halfway across the world!"

"I don't think California's _that_ far away – though I confess that geography was never one of my strong suits," Alice allowed, tilting her head. "But it's not like we're being fired out of a cannon or flung via slingshot. We're traveling by airship, which is generally noted as one of the nicer ways to fly. I doubt a fast-travel one will differ greatly from the norm." She smiled thinly. "Besides, you've been on me to sit down more ever since I first told you that I was pregnant and you attempted to imprison me in an armchair. I'd have no choice on this journey."

"I was just trying to make you comfortable," Victor said, in the strained tones of a man who has apologized for the same incident at least ten times. One hand snaked to his tie, tugging at the knot. "Are you really not worried? What if – w-what if something – h-happens?"

"Then we deal with it. Among our friends, who will be more than happy to help us, I'm sure. But so far, everything has been fine. We made it through the most dangerous months without a hitch. And the baby isn't due until early November. There's little chance of anything going wrong." She grabbed his hand, squeezing it between her own. "Look, I know I can't promise everything will be _perfect_. And yes, part of me _is_ a little scared. But – I can make this journey. I know I can. And I _want_ to go." She pressed his hand against her belly, a smile tugging at her lips. "And so does someone else."

Right on cue, a little foot kicked against his palm. Victor couldn't help a smile as his heart melted all over again. No matter how many times he experienced it, feeling the tiny life squirming and growing inside of his wife. . .there were simply no words. "Well. . .if all three of us want to go. . . ." He sighed and pulled her close, resting his cheek against her hair. "I'm sorry. It's just – you know how I am. It's hard to turn off."

"I understand," Alice assured him. "I really do. Why do you think I let Mell Kelly take over all my monster-hunting duties the moment I got the news? But really – I'm not that fragile. And I'd hate missing Marty's wedding. Or, worse, keeping you from it." She stroked his jaw. "I still remember the way your face crumpled when Doc read out the letter saying they could come home."

"Wasn't _that_ awkward," Victor mumbled, wincing as he remembered a party that had gone from joyous to melancholy in a split second. "I didn't – I was happy for them, truly. It was simply – it was so near Christmas, and we'd been having such a good time, and. . . ."

Alice rubbed his back. "I didn't like seeing them leave either. But Hill Valley _is_ their home. At the very least, you couldn't expect Marty to stay away from his girlfriend forever."

"Of course not." Victor pulled away just enough to take another look at the invitation still clutched in his hand. "Funny to think he's twenty now. The same age we were when we got married."

"Yes, a whole two years ago," Alice laughed, poking his shoulder. "You're too young to start reminiscing about the 'good old days.'"

"Hey, a lot has _happened_ in those two years!" Victor protested, grinning. "I mean, think about it! When I first arrived in Secundus, I was camping out on Doc's couch with nothing but the clothes on my back!"

"I _still_ don't know how you managed in that sitting room for so long," Alice admitted. "Of course, when we first met, I didn't think you were going to last the week." She ran her fingers over his shoulder. "You cut quite the terrified figure in your shiny new goggles and tattered coat."

"I was – quite overwhelmed," Victor allowed, rubbing the back of his neck. He smiled at her. "And it didn't help that I'd just bumped into the prettiest young lady I'd ever met."

Alice went pink. "Flatterer."

"Don't pretend you don't like it."

"Only from you." She looked down at her belly, pressing into his middle. "A lot _has_ changed since that day," she said softly. "If someone had told me two years ago that I'd be standing inside my very own house, trading jokes with my Touched husband and preparing for my first child. . .honestly, I would have referred them to Dr. Wilson regarding their overactive imagination."

"If they'd told _me_ I was going to end up living in the Mad Science Capital Of The World, married to a renowned monster killer, creating all sorts of new butterflies, and readying myself for fatherhood, I would have been convinced they were making fun of me," Victor agreed. "After all, before Doc's train carried me away, I knew exactly how my life was going to play out." He leaned back, ticking the points off on his fingers. "An arranged marriage to a good prospect from the nobility. Following in my father's footsteps with the cannery. Building a grand house with far too many rooms for socializing. And never, ever leaving Burtonsville except to check on fish supplies or be dragged off to some party by Mother."

"Sounds lovely," Alice deadpanned. "You probably would have Gone Creative from sheer boredom a month in."

"Maybe not quite _that_ quickly – the arranged marriage was to Victoria, remember," Victor said with a faint, sad smile. "She probably could have kept me from going around the bend for two months at least." He sighed. "But even with that – even if we'd been happy enough together – I would have always felt like there was something _missing_ in my life. Something exciting. Something – _mad_." He gave Alice a grimace. "If it didn't come to find me – can you _imagine_ how my Going Creative would have turned out in _Burtonsville_?"

"Unfortunately, yes, and it generally ends with nightmares of torches and pitchforks," Alice replied, giving the face right back. She snuggled into him. "But through fate or happenstance, Doc's train _was_ there that day. And you ended up exactly where you needed to be, exactly when you needed to be there."

Victor kissed her forehead. "That's how I feel too."

 _Ding-dong!_ "Arf! Arf! Arf!"

A tan-and-white blur rocketed past their legs, beelining for the front door. "Ah – appears we have visitors," Alice remarked, hiding a smile.

"You think? Hopefully of the sort that like hyperactive corgis. . .Lightning!" Victor called, hurrying after the dog. "Here, boy! Stay!"

Lightning stopped ever so briefly to look back at him. Then he continued on, skidding up to the threshold before hopping up and down, barking all the while. "Yes, yes, we know," Victor said, scooping him up. "We can hear the doorbell too, you know. Even without ears as large as yours."

Lightning wuffed, then turned his attentions to Victor's chin, licking it enthusiastically while his stubby little legs beat the air. "Easy, boy!" Victor cried, laughing despite himself. "I swear, one of these days, I will find your off button. . . ." He tucked Lightning firmly under his arm, then opened the door. "Do excuse me – oh, hello, Victoria! And Christopher, and Emily."

"Hello Victor – and Lightning," Emily said, giggling as Lightning yapped a greeting. She leaned down to scratch him under the chin. "Was someone trying to make a break for it again?"

"He might have just been eager to say hello – but given we're still having trouble with 'stay,' I don't like to take the chance," Victor said, shaking his head at his dog. Lightning just looked up at him with warm brown eyes, tail whirring like a tiny propeller. "Don't give me that – I remember very well how far I had to chase you the last time you got out without your lead."

"He's practically an organic perpetual motion machine," Christopher observed, grinning. "Your name for him turned out to be remarkably apt, didn't it?"

"I think personally it was an omen," Alice replied, rounding the corner. She rubbed her belly as she joined her husband. "Still, making sure he doesn't poke his nose into anything he oughtn't is all good practice for dealing with the upcoming bundle of joy. What brings you all by?"

Victoria pulled a familiar-looking card from her handbag, smiling. "We were wondering if you'd received your mail yet."

"Just now, actually," Victor said, grinning as he stepped back to let everyone in. "Can you believe it? Marty getting married!"

"A truly splendiferous event!" Christopher agreed, face bright under his long mustache. "Though I confess, I'm surprised it took him this long to send us the news. I fully expected him to propose the moment he got back to Hill Valley, given the way he talked about Jennifer."

"They hadn't seen each other in quite some time – perhaps they wanted to take a little while and get properly reacquainted before jumping into marriage," Alice pointed out. "Not to mention, judging by the note we received with our invitation, it may have taken him and Doc that long just to get back into the general populace's good graces so he could _have_ a wedding. Their little _incident_ isn't that far out of memory – especially the Mayor's."

"Fair enough. Still, wonderful news, regardless of the timing," Christopher chuckled. "I presume you're in possession of Doc's schedule of events?"

"Right here," Victor said, adjusting his grip on Lightning as he held up the note. "We were just discussing when we should book the trip, in fact."

"And how many of us should attend," Alice added, giving him a gentle nudge. "Mr. Panicky here worried it might be too much for my delicate constitution."

"Oh no – an airship might be the very _best_ way to travel for a pregnant woman!" Christopher declared, pointing at the ceiling. "Comfortable seats, a distinct lack of bumps, and incredible ease getting to and from the toilet! Plus, depending on the airship, decent catering. What more could one ask for?"

"Indeed. . .you speak as if from experience," Alice noted, tilting her head. "Something you haven't told us about your past, Christopher?"

"Trust me – if I'd suddenly found myself a most unusual stepmother upon marrying him, you would have been the first to know," Victoria told her through a chuckle.

"I haven't dabbled with _that_ sort of biological experiment," Christopher confirmed, going pink around the ears. "I've just traveled with my fair share of pregnant ladies. Including Her Majesty – she had an urgent meeting with Mayor Zemeckis while pregnant with _her_ Alice, and she wanted to prove she was still a strong leader even as an expecting mother."

"Really? How did it go?" Victor asked, intrigued.

"Poor woman threw up twice during the trip, and once right after meeting Zemeckis," Christopher admitted. "But I'm reasonably certain that was only morning sickness, and nothing to do with the mode of travel. She was quite pleased with her float through the skies."

"See? If the Queen can do it, so can I," Alice told Victor, grinning victoriously.

"I already agreed to letting you come," Victor reminded her with a little poke to the shoulder. "Though I won't say it isn't reassuring to hear. . .also, accompanying the pregnant Queen on an important trip like that?" he added to Christopher. "Sometimes I wonder why the Everglots don't like you more."

"I fear my in-laws cannot see past my status as the man who once suggested we boil the Menai bridge in wine to prevent rust," Christopher said, sighing. "But as my darling wife takes care of all communication – what little there is – I am determined not to worry overmuch about it."

"Me either," Victoria nodded, frowning. "They can complain about my husband as much as they like, so long as they don't do it near me. I've had enough of their moaning for a lifetime." She shook off her irritation, sending little sprigs of hair flying. "Anyway – we're here to discuss the booking, actually. I think it would be a smart idea to all book together, as a larger group. We're all planning on using Doc's suggested company, after all – we might get a better rate if we officially travel as six, instead of three sets of two."

"That's an excellent idea," Victor agreed. "And that way we have a better chance of sitting together too. I don't really want to ride with strangers if I don't have to."

"Not to mention it saves a little money for the baby," Alice nodded along. "Richard giving me fully-paid leave has been very helpful, as has my aunt and uncle gifting us baby clothes and furniture, but – well. Our budget's still likely to be stretched to the limit for a while."

"If you ever need anything, just ask," Emily said, laying a hand on her arm. "We'll help out however we can." She giggled. "Oh, but it is a shame that you missed Richard receiving our invitation! He was literally bouncing all over the shop! The only reason he's not with here with me is because a customer walked in mid-bound."

"His own fault – he's the one who insisted I go home and stay there," Alice replied with a smirk. "But yes, I am a bit sorry I missed it."

"Is he already planning our farewell tea party?" Victor asked knowingly, giving Lightning a quick scratch behind the ears.

"Oh yes," Emily nodded, grinning. "I bet you that he's calling up March and Dormy now to invite them. And ask them to keep an eye on the shop while we're away. I hope they don't mind."

"They're Richard's best friends," Victor pointed out. "I can't imagine they – _Ferdy_!"

Victor jerked his head around toward the back garden, prompting a confused whine from Lightning. "Oh no – who am _I_ going to ask to look after _him_? I mean – _Lightning_ I should be able to get permission to take aboard, but there's no _way_ I'm fitting a giant butterfly on an airship! _And_ there's my experiments in the lab! They can mostly take care of themselves, granted, but I hate to leave them _completely_ on their own. Especially with a couple so close to completion. . . ."

"And everyone we would normally ask is coming _with_ us," Alice groaned, rubbing the side of her face. "Damn, that slipped my mind too. . .well, we'll think of someone. It's not like you're enemies with half the city, like Narbon and Madblood. Quite the opposite, in fact."

"Mmm – one of the perks of killing a giant monster threatening everyone we know and love," Christopher nodded, clapping Victor on the shoulder.

"Yes. . .I _still_ have people asking for autographs from time to time," Victor admitted, touching his hand (and the card it still held) to the back of his head. "It's still – weird. I mean, it's – it's nice to be a-appreciated, but . . .that was – pretty much the w-worst day of my life, and everyone wants to – to c-celebrate it."

"That's the thing, Victor – most everyone else in the city sees it as 'the day a new Touched saved us all from death or enslavement,'" Alice said, wrapping her arm around him. Lightning squirmed toward her with a "wuff!" – she slid him out from under Victor's arm and balanced him on her belly. "Good boy. . .they don't know that, to you, it's 'the day I went mad in the wreckage of a friend's house and ended up slaughtering a terrible tentacle-clone of the woman I love.'"

"I know," Victor murmured. "And it's not like I want to spread that information around. It's just. . .all things considered, I'd rather still be a nobody quietly working in Doc's shop. With everyone safe and sound." He bit his lip. "Including. . . ."

Victoria, Christopher, and Emily promptly moved in, wrapping him and Alice in a group hug. Even Lightning turned back around to lick his hand. "We'd all like that," Victoria said, rubbing his arm. "But there's nothing we can do about it now. He'd want you to be happy, I promise."

"At the very least, he'd be pleased to see Wonderland Park back to its old self," Emily added, doing her best to inject some cheer back into the conversation. "March told us the other day he hasn't seen a Snark in three weeks. Or a Boojum in two whole months!"

" _Mell_ has," Alice replied, with a vicious grin. "Though she didn't see them for long. She's quite the efficient successor." She looked down at her belly with a slight frown. "Which is good, as it'll be some time yet before I'm back in the game."

"Don't worry about it – a child is much more important than some silly old monsters," Christopher told her. "The rest of us can more than pick up your slack." He tilted his head. "Er – out of curiosity, and only because we're on the subject anyway. . .if it's a boy, will he be Lewis?"

Victor shook his head. "We did consider it, but – it would just be – too awkward," he admitted quietly. "We don't want to saddle a baby with my baggage."

"And while we haven't got a first name yet, we picked the middle almost the moment we found out I was expecting," Alice added. "Which you'll learn once we're all back together, by the by. So we're keeping it in reserve for the future." She grinned. "After all, if we do good enough with this baby, we _may_ want another."

"Fair enough," Christopher said with a little nod. "I feel much the same way about calling any future son of mine Lewis."

"We have _much_ more time to discuss that matter," Victoria said, smiling at him. "But perhaps we'll use it as a middle name if you don't, Alice."

"You're more than welcome to it. He was your friend too."

"He was dear to all of us," Emily agreed. "And I'm sure he'll be coming along on this trip in spirit."

"Which, given the circumstances, is probably for the best," Alice replied. "After all, we all know how much Hill Valley's mayor loves having just _one_ Touched in his town. Imagine how he's going to feel about having _four_ there for just over a _week_."

"His own fault for disallowing Doc's use of his beloved train," Christopher said, shaking his head. "Things being as they are, though, we'd best get our ride booked sooner rather than later. Who wants the honors?"

"I was almost literally just on my way to do it when you all came to call," Alice said, holding up her hand. "Allow me. Victor and I have to look into whether or not they allow pets anyway."

"Capital!" Christopher clapped his hands. "Then I guess Victoria and I ought to get home and dig out my best dress uniform. And see about purchasing a wedding present or two."

"Richard's already determined that we give them a tea set," Emily admitted with a giggle.

"No surprises there," Victor said, smiling. "I think we may need a bit more time – the only thing that's coming to mind for me is 'toaster,' and given that's what _Doc_ gave _us_ – I think they'll have that covered."

"We'll figure it out," Alice assured him. "New couples need plenty, as we well know."

"We'll let you know if we come up with any grand ideas," Victoria assured her. She dropped a small curtsy, then gave them each a hug. "I hope you both have a wonderful day!"

"Thank you, you as well," Victor said, returning it. "We'll see you at the tea party, if not sooner."

"I'll buzz you with the time," Emily promised, stepping up for her turn with hugs. She gave Lightning a parting pat. "You be a good boy for Victor and Alice, all right?"

Lightning yipped and wagged his tail. "Even if he isn't, we'll keep him anyway," Alice responded, ruffling his fur before offering a one-armed hug to Christopher. "We'll let you know what rate we got for the trip."

"Thank you much," Christopher said, patting her back before wrapping an arm around Victor. "You two have a good afternoon."

"You as well," Victor replied, giving him a quick squeeze in return.

Christopher gave him a final smile, then linked arms with his wife, leading her out the door. Emily followed with a wave. Victor waved back before shutting the door behind her. "Well – I guess we're sorted," he said, looking back at Alice. "We really are lucky to have friends like them, aren't we?"

"Extremely." Alice crouched down with a grunt, releasing Lightning back onto the floor. He promptly took off, yapping and running circles around her. "See you haven't exhausted yourself yet – how _are_ we going to keep him quiet for an overseas airship ride? I doubt the other passengers will appreciate his antics the way we do."

"We'll see what the Over-Oceans Fabulous Flyer Corporation says, I guess," Victor said, helping her back up with a hand under her arm. "I _do_ hope we can bring him along, though. I hate the idea of just leaving him behind, even with a house-sitter. And I want Doc and Marty to meet him! You want to meet my best friends, right, boy?"

Lightning barked, running up to him and putting his paws on his leg. "I'd say that's a solid yes," Alice said, smiling. "And just think – _we're_ finally going to meet the famous Jennifer!"

"I know! I feel like I know her already from Marty's stories, but it would be nice to see her in _person_ ," Victor laughed. "Hill Valley too." He grinned, watching Lightning do a figure-eight around their feet. "The American West! I never thought I'd ever take such a long trip. This is going to be an _adventure_."

"Indeed. A good one, I hope." Alice whistled and patted her knee. "Lightning! Come here, you little nut. Let's see if you're allowed on an airship."

Lightning arfed and darted to her side. "Good boy," Victor praised. "And while you're doing that, I'm going to review all my current specimens – see which ones might need special attention before we leave." He patted his stomach. "Then perhaps over lunch we can make a list of potential house-sitters?"

"Sounds like a plan," Alice nodded.

"Great." His gaze drifted down to her belly again, and he bit his lip. "And – look, I believe Christopher about the Queen and her trip. And I'm trying not to treat you as if you're too delicate to function. But–" He twisted his hands into knots. "J-just to be safe, could I persuade you to visit the doctor before we go?"

"You can," Alice said, holding up a hand. "If only because the last thing I want is air travel bringing back my morning sickness." She gave his tie a gentle tug, bringing his head down so she could kiss his cheek. "But don't get too nervous, all right? We're going to be fine. This is going to be fun."

"I'll do my best." Victor touched her belly, feeling the baby squirm beneath her skin. "For all of us."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \-->The way Victor repairs the butterfly is based on how people actually DO fix broken butterfly wings, according to my online research
> 
> \-->Mayor Gillin (we better know him as Hubert) is named for his actor in the film, Hugh Gillin
> 
> \-->The whole thing with being "shot out of a cannon" to travel is a reference to that happening in _Secret of Mana_ and other related games -- Helloween4545 did an LP of that game, and it was on my mind while writing this chapter
> 
> \-->"boiling the Menai bridge in wine" is a reference to the poem the White Knight recites in _Through The Looking Glass_


	2. A Real Wild West 'Town'

August 23rd, 1882

Secundus, England

9:10 A.M.

"And _that_ is how you get into and out of his saddle!"

Victor clambered off Ferdinand, rubbing the butterfly behind the feelers. "I know it looks a little awkward, and it _does_ take some getting used to," he continued. "But I'm sure you'll manage. Just remember – one flight around the neighborhood, once a day. You can take him farther if you want, of course, but that's the absolute minimum for his exercise."

"Got it!" Flint Lockwood scribbled madly on his pad, tongue poking out of the corner of his mouth. "Should I take him out at any particular time? Want to keep him on his routine if I can!"

"Well, he's usually pretty hungry afterwards, so I generally do it right before his 3 PM feeding," Victor said. A long proboscis wiggled over his face, making him laugh. "Yes, yes, I love you too. . .oh! And if you find any wing scales on the floor of his stable, don't panic. He sheds them around this time of year and grows a new set. Blame the dog DNA I used in him."

"Good to know!" Flint grinned at Victor, saluting with his pad. "Don't you worry about a thing, Victor! Ferdy and all the rest are in good hands!"

"'Don't worry about a thing?'" Alice echoed from her position just inside the back door. "And here I thought you _knew_ Victor, Flint."

"I'll worry _less_ with you in charge," Victor assured Flint. "Thank you again for agreeing to look after the place."

"Oh, it's no trouble at all," Flint said, throwing out his hand in an expressive gesture Victor had to duck. "Sam and Manny are more than capable of handling the Roofless. And they know where to find me if there's an emergency." He ran his hand through his hair, making it stick out at even weirder angles. "Besides, you did kinda, you know, save my life. This is, like, the _least_ I can do."

"I'd argue that Astrid deserves more of the c-credit than I do," Victor replied, rubbing the back of his head. _One of these days, I'll be able to accept a compliment about that awful fight with the Queen. . . ._ "She kept you alive until I was able to – do what I did."

"Yeah, true. So if _she_ ever needs house-sitting–" Flint puffed out his chest, affecting a heroic pose. "I'm her man!"

The tension dissipated as Victor laughed. "Sounds fair."

"Amusing as this is, the carriage to our Fabulous Flyer will be here in only twenty minutes," Alice informed them, looking at her watch.

"Oh dear, really?" Victor consulted his own watch. "I'd better get the luggage down – Flint, do you mind helping me?"

"Not at all." Flint flexed his arm, grinning. "Look at these muscles!" He glanced at his bicep, and the smile faltered. "Uh – you didn't pack anything _too_ heavy, right?"

"It's pretty much all clothes," Alice assured him, hiding a chuckle. "Though I _did_ sneak in my Vorpal Blade."

Flint raised a dramatic eyebrow. "Uh – you think you'll need your _knife_ at a _wedding_?"

"It's known as the Wild West for a reason," Alice replied. "You never know what trouble you might run into."

" _Please_ let the _non_ -pregnant people handle said trouble first," Victor begged, clasping his hands.

"I will, I will," Alice assured him, shaking her head slightly. "But I'll feel much safer with _some_ sort of self-defense on me." She cupped her belly with both hands. "Especially since I have a _lot_ more to protect these days."

"I will give you that," Victor allowed. He bit his lip. "So, while we're heading inside, anything we can get you?"

"No – the only thing I need right now is just my usual trip to the toilet," Alice sighed. "I'll see you at the front door in a minute."

"We'll be there." Victor turned back to Ferdinand, patting his head. "Bye, Ferdy. You be a good boy for Mr. Lockwood, you hear?"

Ferdinand bounced in place, wings fluttering. "All right. I'll be back in a few weeks' time." He scratched him between the feelers. "And no blowing all the leaves off the trees!"

Ferdinand waggled his proboscis, then scurried over to his sugar water bottle. "Is that – a problem?" Flint asked as they headed inside.

"He kicks up a good wind with those wings of his," Victor explained, leading the way around the kitchen and up to his and Alice's bedroom. "I've sent my fair share of hats flying during take-offs and landings. The _real_ problem is, he likes to chase the things he blows away. Again, part dog." He rolled his eyes. "Occasionally I regret doing that."

Flint shook his head. "Wow. He sounds like more of a handful than Steve."

"Yes, well, to be fair, Ferdy doesn't fling his own poo at people."

"Hey, Steve hasn't done that for months! And he wasn't actually _aiming_ at you, you know. You were just – in the way."

"Even still. . . ."

Collecting the luggage was happily just a case of picking up the suitcases and carrier crate already sitting by the door. Flint hefted the latter with a curious frown. "What's this?"

"Lightning's ride," Victor explained, taking it from him and handing him Alice's suitcase in return. "It's a suspended animation kennel, courtesy of Christopher. The Fabulous Flyer was only willing to take him if he was crated, and we quickly realized he'd go mad if he was forced to just _sit_ in there. And we didn't want to have to keep sedating him as well, so. . . ." He picked up his own suitcase in his free hand. "Christopher and I did a trial run last night. Left him inside for two hours, and he came out as happy as can be."

"Oh, that is super-mega-awesome," Flint grinned. "Isn't science great?"

"There's a reason I'm much happier here than I ever was in Burtonsville," Victor replied, grinning back. He turned back toward the stairs. "All right – let's get all of this to the front door, then you can help me track down the little fellow and get him inside. He's probably somewhere near my lab."

"Arf! Arf! Arf!"

Victor paused as he descended. Was it just him, or had that bark come from. . . . "Oh _damn_ – or _in_ my lab!" he cried, scrambling to get to the bottom of the stairs. "I must not have closed the door all the way earlier! Oh no, I hope he hasn't eaten any of the butterflies. . . ."

"Uh – for _their_ sake, or _his_?" Flint had to ask, hurrying to keep up.

"Well, I keep the more dangerous creations locked up, but there's still plenty that wouldn't be good for a dog." Victor thrust his suitcase at Flint. "Can you just bring these to the front door? I'll be back with him in just a moment."

"Sure thing!" Flint declared, starting to salute and then thinking better of it.

"Thank you!" Clutching the crate to his chest, Victor hurried off his lab.

Fortunately, there were no signs of carnage as he flew through the curtain into the maze of terrariums. Lightning was instead focusing his attention on a shadowed corner by his main experiment table, bouncing back and forth as he yapped. "Silly dog," Victor declared, setting down the crate and picking him up. Lighting "arfed" and tried to lick his chin. "What am I going to do with you, hmm?"

"Judging by what's sitting at your feet, lock him up for a few weeks."

Victor started, then scowled. "Cheshire! What are you doing in here?"

"Currently? Trying not to attract the attention of your excitable friend there," Cheshire purred, eyes and smile winking into existence against the darkness. "Which I have now realized is a fool's errand, given his nature." He licked a paw as it faded into view. "My initial intentions were to simply say a farewell to you and your lovely wife." His grin widened. "And your lovely creatures."

Right on cue, a large green grasshopper shaped like a teapot bounded into view, escaping the attentions of a questing claw. Victor caught it by the handle and lifted it out of harm's way. "I've told you before – _stop_ harassing my experiments," he scolded, adjusting his grip on Lightning so he couldn't wiggle free. "I know you're a cat, but you're a cat that knows better."

"Well-spoken," Cheshire replied, slinking into the light. "But couldn't you just consider me another variable to note down on your sheet? A way to gauge how your butterflies and beetles and other creeping things respond to stress?"

"I _know_ how they respond to stress – they die sooner," Victor snapped, putting the grasshopper on the table. "And this one's none of those – and brand new besides!" Lightning barked agreement. "He hatched only a week ago, and attained his adult molt yesterday!"

"My my my – and here you are, ready to abandon your child," Cheshire said, tilting his head so far it seemed ready to go fully upside-down.

"I'm not _abandoning_ it," Victor growled, putting down the tiny spike of guilt that jabbed at his internals. "Flint's here. He promised to keep an eye on things. And besides, it needs time to properly – er – brew, I suppose," he added, rubbing its side. The grasshopper whistled softly, a minuscule plume of steam escaping its mouth. "By the time I get home, it'll be ready to test!" He hit Cheshire with a dark look. "If a certain someone hasn't _eaten_ it first."

"You wound me," Cheshire declared, pressing a paw against his chest. "If only in the metaphorical sense. Have I _ever_ eaten one of your experiments?"

"There's a first time for everything," Victor replied coolly.

"And a last time as well. I'm aware that some of your creations would be – _unwise_ to sample."

" _All_ of them are, if you want to keep what fur you have left." Victor held up his corgi, scowling. " _Lightning_ has been better behaved in here than you are, and I can't let him near the front door unless I want to chase him a mile."

Lightning barked again, tail wagging at the praise. Cheshire's eyes narrowed, though his grin never changed. "Why, of all the possible paramours available to her in this city, did Alice have to marry a _dog_ person?" he groused, laying down with his tail flicking to and fro behind him. "Again, in the metaphorical sense." His lips curled over his teeth in a smirk. "Though I _have_ heard a rumor that it's not just your pet that enjoys being scratched behind the ears."

Victor's entire head went red. "If you've been peeking in while we're – o-otherwise occupied–"

"Perish the thought," Cheshire interrupted, earring swinging. " _You_ may threaten to skin me – I know Alice actually _would_." He rolled over and directed a lazy swat in the general direction of the grasshopper – it promptly bounced away, off the table and behind Victor. "Particularly in her current condition."

"Yes, well, Alice likes my insects too, so perhaps _that_ should be reason enough for you to leave them be," Victor grumbled. "Just – leave them alone while I'm away, all right? Promise me that? Poor Flint's going to have enough to deal with taking care of his restaurant _and_ Ferdy."

Cheshire grinned at him upside-down. "You have my word." He rolled back over and prowled up to Victor, rubbing against his leg. "It wouldn't be the same without you here to yell at me anyway. Which means _you_ must promise _me_ to come back."

Victor's annoyance cooled. "I will," he said, reaching down to stroke Cheshire's head. As he did, he caught sight of the grasshopper skittering away out of the corner of his eye, looking for safer ground. _Hopefully the poor thing finds a nice, quiet place to hide!_ "And Alice too. There's no way either of us could leave the city permanently."

"Oh, I can think of a few. . .but none I can see you being eager to take." Cheshire faded back to just eyes and smile, hovering about his knees. "Safe journeys, Victor. And my best to our expatriates."

"Thanks," Victor nodded. "I'll pass it along."

"Victor?" Flint poked his head through the curtain. "Alice says the carriage is here!"

"What?! Already?!" Victor turned, snatched up the crate, and slid Lightning inside, getting a startled yap in response. "Sorry, boy – I thought I had more time! Lie down, okay? Lie down! Just like the other night!"

Lightning tilted his head, but lay down. "Good boy," Victor praised, reaching in to scratch him behind the ears. "See you soon!" He closed up the front, then gave the activation knob a sharp twist. The crate hummed to life, vibrating against his ribs in a way that set his teeth on edge. "Ooh, might want to talk to Christopher about that. . .okay, Flint, the notes are on the table," he said, hurrying to meet him at the door. "I haven't got anything difficult in the works, so don't worry about that. Just peek in from time to time and water the plants."

"If I may – you perhaps would benefit from being a little more cautious," Cheshire's mouth said, trailing just behind him.

"What? Oh." Victor jerked to a stop right before the loose slate. "Thanks – Flint, want an extra fifty for fixing that bloody thing?"

"Sure!" Flint grinned. "You can count on me, Victor!"

"Er – not _quite_ what I mean, Victor," Cheshire said, reappearing in full. "I was thinking more in terms of–"

"Cheshire, I'm sorry, I don't have _time_ for a riddle right now," Victor cut him off, ducking through the net. "You can perplex me as much as you wish when we get back, I promise!"

Cheshire sighed, fading away again. "I tried. . . ."

"Oh, don't sulk. I'll pass your best wishes onto Alice." Victor clapped Flint on the shoulder. "Enjoy the house!"

"I will!" Flint slapped him on the back, opening the door for him with his other arm. "Have a good trip!"

"Thanks!" Focusing very hard on not tripping, Victor raced for the front door.

He skidded into the entrance hall to see their cabbie taking their suitcases from Alice. "The prodigal scientist!" Alice greeted him. "Something go wrong in the lab?"

"I left the door open just enough for Lightning to get in," Victor explained, holding up the crate. "And when I went to get him, there was Cheshire, being his usual naughty self."

Alice humphed. "I'll give him a talking-to once we get back. He only does it to wind you up, you know."

"Yes, and it's incredibly effective." Victor shook his head, clutching the crate to his chest. "But I'm not going to worry about it now. Shall we?"

"I'm all set." Alice nodded at the crate. "All right in there?"

Victor peeked through the little window in the door. Lightning lay as still as a statue, head still cocked and eyes glassy. "In a creepy way," he reported, pulling back with a shudder. "I know it's for the best, but still. . . ."

"He'll be back to his normal self once we get there," Alice reminded him, linking arms with him. "Which won't happen unless we leave _right now_."

"Right, right – all aboard," Victor murmured as they stepped outside. "Let's get this show on the road."

* * *

September 1st, 1882

Hill Valley, California

1:46 P.M.

"Next stop, Hill Valley! Hill Valley, next stop!"

"Oh, thank _God_ ," Alice groaned, slumping in her seat as the conductor moved past them. "I haven't had a chance to properly stretch my legs in _weeks_!"

" _Technically_ it's only been ten days since the start of our journey," Richard said, holding up a finger. "So a week and three-sevenths."

"Still _quite_ long enough." Alice squirmed, reaching behind her to rub a kink in her back. "How does _anyone_ manage the old-fashioned way? I'd have to be sent back to bedlam if I had to wait _months_ to reach my destination."

"Well, some people enjoy the journey," Christopher said, though his tone suggested that he was currently wondering what was wrong with said people. "And you can't say we've had no opportunities to walk about. The airship was on the smaller side, but you could move around."

"Yes – to and from the bathroom," Alice grumbled. She poked her belly. "Must you sit right on my bladder?"

"Not too long until they arrive," Victor said, rubbing her back soothingly. "But yes, it was still a little cramped – and almost _too_ smooth a ride for me. I'm so used to all the little bumps and jolts from riding in Doc's train and on Ferdy, that just coasting right through the air felt – unnatural."

"Well then, you must feel right at home in here!" Richard declared, smiling.

Victor looked around the train car. The brown paint was flaking off the trim, and the green upholstery was yellowed and stained by – well, he didn't care to think about it. Above them, their luggage rattled in the rusted old racks above them, threatening to vibrate free; below them, the floor creaked and groaned with every little bump in the tracks. He turned back to Richard with a frown. "Not – really."

"We're almost there," Victoria said, craning her neck to see over the back of her seat. "I'm rather excited, honestly – a real Wild West town! I never thought I'd visit one!"

"Me either," Emily agreed, bouncing in her seat. "I wanted to see all sorts of places when I was younger. Barkis promised me a grand tour of the world once we were married."

"Of course he did," Richard said in disgusted tones. "Welcher. Among other things."

"I try not to think about it these days," Emily said, leaning her head against her husband's side. "I'm much happier having you as my travel companion anyway."

"Thrilled to be here, my darling," Richard replied, wrapping an arm around her. "And yes, this should be something! I wonder if they have a proper haberdasher's set up here?"

"Marty and Doc never mentioned one in their letters," Victor said with a chuckle. "Halfway around the world, on your way to a wedding, and you're thinking about _work_?"

"I like hats! And it would be nice to pick up a new _chapeau_ while we're in the Americas." Richard drummed his fingers against his leg. "Though, now that you've got me _thinking_ about it. . .I did fill all the orders we had before we left, right, Emily?"

"You did," Emily assured him, patting his hand. "And even if you didn't – well, you can't do anything about it now, can you? I'm sure our customers can be patient. Or, at least, bribed with some of March's tarts."

"Don't start picking up bad habits from Victor," Alice added, smirking. "Incidentally, I'm sure Flint is handling the house just fine."

"I didn't say anything!" Victor protested.

"No, you just thought it. Very loudly."

"If it makes you feel better, I too am concerned about the state of my domicile," Christopher said, leaning an elbow on the back of his seat as he looked at them. "I mean – I know Hildegarde said she'd be fine, Victoria, but she _is_ rather an old lady–"

"Who spent the majority of her years working for my _parents_ in their too-big-for-anyone mansion," Victoria cut in. "An empty house will pose her absolutely no problems. Especially since Twilight Sparkle and Pinkie Pie promised to drop by regularly."

"I still can't believe she's such good friends with the Equestria Farm ponies," Victor admitted.

"Your parents must be appalled," Alice added, grinning. "Their oldest servant, in more ways than one, dropping them for a herd of multi-colored miniature horses."

"Oh, they don't say much on the matter," Victoria replied with her own, slightly-evil grin. "Of course, they don't say much to us at all in general. I'm not entirely sure they ever got over the shock of the royal family attending my wedding." Her grin widened. "Or said family ignoring them entirely to congratulate my groom."

"That was funny," Victor said with a soft laugh. "Some days, I wish I could have gotten something like that with my wedding and my parents."

"An amusing thought, but – honestly, I think we're all better off with them staying out of our lives entirely," Alice said. "I don't want to deal with a Nell Van Dort playing nice with us just on the off chance it'll lead to her meeting the Queen."

Victor made a face. "Me either."

_SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEECCCCCHHH!_

The car jerked as it abruptly slowed down, seats and luggage racks rattling. "Ah – seems we've arrived," Christopher said, rubbing his ear.

"Just about," Emily reported, peering out the window. "We're pulling up to the platform now. . .I think. . . ." She squinted into the heavy black cloud flowing past the glass. "Goodness, where is all this smoke _coming_ from?"

"I don't remember Doc's train ever doing this," Victoria said, coughing as the smoke leaked in through the edges of the frame.

"Doc fiddled with the furnace regularly to make sure it didn't," Victor told her, handing his hanky to Alice so she could cover her face. He scowled disapprovingly at the cloud of soot and ash. "He could tell these engineers a thing or two about maintaining a train!"

"I don't think Mayor Gillin will let him," Alice said through the cloth. "Hopefully it'll have dissipated by the time we get out."

It hadn't _quite_ by the time the train rattled to a stop at the station, but it did lighten enough that Victor felt sure that they wouldn't immediately die of asphyxiation should they venture outside. _Not that we're going to get a chance to do that anytime soon,_ he thought, eyeing their fellow passengers as they bounded out of their seats and snatched up their luggage before pushing and shoving their way toward the doors. "Anyone mind if we wait until this has cleared out a bit?" he asked, shrinking back in his seat.

"Not at all," Victoria said, shaking her head. "I'd forgotten for a second just how _packed_ the train was."

"Wonder why they're all getting out here?" Richard mused, ducking his head under the luggage rack for a better look at the thinning crowds.

"Perhaps some of them are more of Marty's relatives," Alice theorized. "He's said before he has a fairly large extended family. . . ." She handed Victor back his hanky and stood up, pressing her hands against the small of her back. "Whoever they are, though, they'd better clear out fast. I'm all knots."

"We can probably risk getting our luggage, at least," Christopher said, standing up and retrieving a suitcase from the rack. "I recommend we all hang onto each other when we get out there, though. Seems like it would be all too easy to get lost in this scrum."

"I think you're onto something," Emily agreed, grimacing as she watched two men squabbling over who had stepped on whose foot. "Alice, you should probably be in the middle – that'll be the safest spot. Victoria and I can cover you on either side."

"Sounds reasonable," Alice said. "I guess then Richard will be leading the way, since he's the tallest."

"It's my pleasure," Richard said, getting almost to all fours to get out of his seat. "I'm about ready to be free of this undersized iron can myself. . .Christopher, give me that suitcase there, and I'll hand Lightning's crate over to Victor. . . ."

Once the luggage was unloaded and passed around, and line order established, the group linked arms and ventured cautiously out onto the platform. Victor peered around the masses of people rushing to and fro, hanging tightly to Emily's arm as they wove their way through the crowd. Fortunately, this was not as hard a proposition as they'd originally anticipated – upon seeing Richard, all the other former passengers seemed all too eager to get out of their way. _I guess he_ does _look a bit intimidating,_ he admitted to himself, taking in his friend's green skin and the clockwork poking through his clothes. _So long as no one breaks out the torches and pitchforks, we should be fine. I hope._

"Any sign of them?" Christopher asked from the rear.

"None yet – but there are _quite_ a lot of people here!" Richard said, swinging out an arm to emphasize the obvious.

"They _must_ be meeting us," Alice insisted, standing on tiptoe in an attempt to get a better view. "There's no way they wouldn't."

"They could be nearer the back, by the ticket booths," Victoria pointed out, jerking her head in the right direction.

"Maybe," Victor murmured, craning his neck for any glimpse of white or brown hair through the sea of hats and bonnets. _Like Alice said, they have to be here_ somewhere _. . .come on, where are you guys?_

"Doc! Doc, I see 'em!"

"I do too! Richard! Guys! Over here!"

Victor rounded on the voices like a bloodhound on the scent, dragging the rest of the line with him. The crush of people thinned and parted – and there they were, standing by the ticket office like Victoria had said, waving like they were bringing in an aircraft. Unable to help himself, Victor broke from the others and took off toward them, barely aware of a small _snap!_ at arm level. He knew he should wait, knew it wouldn't take that much longer to see them if he went with the others. . .but damn it, it had been _so bloody long_ , and he'd missed them _so much_ , and there they _finally_ were, in the flesh right before him – he dropped Lightning's crate at his feet and flung his arms around his best friends. "Doc! Marty!"

"Victor!" The pair returned the hug with enthusiasm, half-lifting him off his feet. "Damn, it's good to see you, buddy!"

"Extremely," Doc nodded. He pulled away and regarded Victor at arm's length. "Great Scott – it's been one year, eight months, and a day! You're looking well."

Victor laughed. "So are you. Oh, you have no idea how much I missed you!"

"Uh, maybe _some_ idea," Marty said, grinning as he nodded at his arm. "So where's the rest of Emily?"

"Huh?" Victor looked down – to see a skeletal hand still gripping his elbow. " _Oh!_ Emily, I'm so sorry!" he cried, whirling back toward the crowd.

"It's okay!" Emily called, laughing as she and the others finally caught up. "I just wasn't expecting you to take _off_ like that! You've been picking up bad habits from Lightning."

"Someone's got to run around like an over-wound clockwork while he's currently indisposed," Alice said, smiling. She offered her own hug to Doc and Marty. "And it is good to see you both again."

"Same here, Alice," Marty said, giving her a quick and gentle squeeze before turning his gaze down to her middle. "How's the little Van Dort cookin'?"

"Coming along – I've still got about two months to go," Alice replied, rubbing her belly. "Which oftentimes feels like two months too long, but what can one do? Beyond try inadvisable biological experiments, which – no."

"For the best," Doc agreed with a nod.

"Congratulations on the wedding!" Richard declared, giving Marty a handshake that undulated through his whole body. "About time, eh, Christopher?"

"Oh, indeed," Christopher agreed, grinning. "Just _how_ long have you been dating this Jennifer?"

"About five years," Marty said, smirking back. "How long did it take you to even _notice_ women?"

Victoria poorly hid a snort. "I knew women _existed_ before she came along," Christopher argued, pink. "I just – no one ever caught my eye! Not _my_ fault that she's both quite a bit younger than me, and lived in the middle of nowhere for the vast majority of our lives."

"Still – what did you want me to do, run off a la _Romeo and Juliet_? I know you've seen that play, Christopher. That didn't work out too well for them."

"Or me," Emily nodded, reclaiming her arm from Victor. She snapped it back into place before giving Marty a hug. "Well, even if you took the long, responsible way around, congratulations. Where's the blushing bride-to-be?"

"Back at the Palace Saloon, along with every other McFly we could summon up," Marty said, jerking his head in the general direction of the town. "Figured I'd get 'em all into one spot so you can meet 'em all at once."

"Not to mention, you've obviously seen how busy the first of the month is at our little station," Doc added, picking up Lightning's crate. "New workers coming in, old ones going out, various traders stopping by – we didn't want to add to the mess."

"So you get the grand tour of Hill Valley first!" Marty said, taking a bag off Christopher. "Just follow us – and watch your step getting off the platform."

"We'll be fine – so long as _someone_ doesn't run off with half my arm again," Emily teased, poking Victor in the ribs.

Victor giggled, then rubbed the back of his head. "I am sorry. I just – I got so excited, I couldn't contain myself."

"I'm not surprised," Alice said, patting his back before directing a grin at Doc. "Did you know we've got no less than five clocks ticking away in our study? He thought it was too quiet otherwise."

Marty snorted as Doc blushed. "Oh boy. You slept on our couch _way_ too long, Victor."

"Says the kid who told me he missed being woken up by my swearing at something. . .which, again, says more about me. . ." Doc shook his head. "Anyway, how was the trip? I admit, I was focused less on comfort and more on speed when I picked the Over-Oceans Fabulous Flyers as your primary mode of transport."

"Very nice," Victoria assured him as they wound their way through the last of the crowd. "You barely knew how fast you were going until you looked out the window."

"Perhaps a trifle smaller than expected, but it got us here in one piece, and that's the main thing," Alice nodded. She rubbed her back again. "Could have done with a less rattly train, though."

"Ah, yes – the local railway does not maintain its locomotives to _quite_ the same standards as my own," Doc said, shooting the tracks a frown. "I'm sorry, I did my best to convince Mayor Gillin to let me pick you all up – at _least_ from one of the stops along the way – but he was adamant that I not 'let my science trickery loose in the town.'"

"Yeah, he's been riding our butts ever since we got back," Marty grumbled. "Nothing but the evil eye if either of us run into him for almost _two years_. I dunno _how_ Grampa Seamus convinced him to let us back into the town, but he still ain't happy about it." He shrugged a shoulder. "Even less happy about this, but – how the hell could I get married and _not_ invite my best friends?"

"We'll be on our best behavior," Victor promised him.

"Cross our hearts and hope to die," Richard nodded. "Those of us who have them, and those of us who can, anyway."

"We're here now, so it's a bit late for him to protest anyway," Victoria said. She grinned as they finally broke free of the masses and stepped off the platform. "Oh, but this is exciting! My first look at a real Wild West–"

She stopped dead, smile frozen on her face as they all came face-to-face with Hill Valley for the first time. Victor couldn't blame her – he felt much the same as she looked. Because. . .well, whenever Doc and Marty had talked about their hometown back in Secundus, he'd always pictured a place rather like Burtonsville. Small, sure, and isolated, but well-maintained, with paved streets and shops in the town square and a wall to show the border. A place that might be a bit lonely to grow up in, but that didn't actually lack for anything.

Hill Valley – lacked. The entire town seemed to consist of a single, well-used dirt road, with a handful of buildings scattered around it. No wall, no fences, not even a line in the sand to show where it began or ended. It was like some great godly child had plonked a few rickety toy shops into a sandpit, arranged them roughly into two rows, then been called into supper before they could do anything more. "Town," Victoria finally managed to finish. "Um. . . ."

Richard raised a disapproving eyebrow. "This is _it_?"

"Richard!" Emily elbowed him. "Manners!"

"No, no, it's fine, I get it," Marty said, waving his free hand. "We all know it ain't much to look at. Especially if you're used to the big city."

"It's fine, it's just – not what I expected," Victoria said, rallying as she looked left and right. "I simply thought for sure you'd have – are those men _bathing_ over there?!"

All heads snapped left. Beside them (though at a far enough distance to avoid too much embarrassment for both parties) was a little camp, with a water pump and a good dozen metal tubs. And in said tubs were an almost equal number of men, lounging or working away at the dirt stuck to their skin. "Well, yes," Doc said, as if this was completely normal and not something that would send the average citizen of Burtonsville into conniptions. "Nobody in Hill Valley has actual running water – and most of these men are loggers, miners, and seasonal workers in temporary quarters. This is the only place where they _can_ bathe."

"But – they just – in _public_?" Victoria squeaked, eyes wide as she watched one man scrub his hair, before dipping his hand under the water to take care of – other areas.

"Let's, uh, just say that manners are a _little_ different over here than where you grew up and leave it at that," Marty said, patting her shoulder. "Look, don't worry, nobody's gonna make _you_ use it. We got our own tubs back at the McFly farm, and my Uncle William built them their own little shed so nobody has to get an eyeful."

"Oh, thank you – I could _never_ ," Victoria declared, hugging herself. "I miss indoor plumbing already."

"I think that is going to be a common sentiment during our trip here," Alice agreed, craning her neck. "Where _is_ your house, Marty? I don't see anywhere around here for people to live."

"Fourteen miles thataway," Marty said, pointing back down along the train tracks. "Just follow the smell of the pigs."

"Pigs?" Victor repeated. "I thought your father was an author."

"Yeah, but Grampa Seamus, Gramma Maggie, and Uncle William aren't. Had to make a living _somehow_ before Dad started hitting it big with his books. Trust me, you'll get the full grand tour later. For now–" He jerked his head along what passed for the main road. "Let's get to the Palace before one of those guys over there decides he doesn't care if there's ladies present and flashes his junk."

"Let's," Victoria said immediately, leading the way.

They proceeded up the road, following the crisscrossing wheel ruts and dusty old hoofprints of the carriages that had come before them. "Okay, so over there is Statler's Finest Pre-Owned Horses," Marty said, pointing out a large paddock opposite the public baths. "He's just this side of a con man, but we've never actually had any trouble with any of his animals, soooo. . .and then over that side you've got the tailor, and the dressmaker – yeah, I know, right next to the bath house," he added as Emily and Victoria shared a disapproving look. " _I_ didn't tell 'em to set up there. And then over _that_ way, you got the meat market."

"It's very meaty," Richard agreed, looking at the various cuts hung up for display, before wrinkling his nose at the man whacking up some unidentifiable haunch. "But all those flies don't look particularly – hygienic."

Marty shrugged. "Nobody's died yet. Well, not from that, anyway."

"Reminds me of the Burtonsville fish market," Victor said, watching the butcher knocked some gristle off his table. A stray dog instantly darted in to scarf it down. "Mayhew and Cleavehard used to spend hours whacking the heads off the catch of the day and dropping them in a barrel. With occasional breaks to chase off all the extremely curious cats."

"Oh, I would have been a nuisance to them if we'd kept up any relationship with your parents," Alice said. "I would have been encouraging those cats every time I was anywhere _near_ that shop."

"'Cause you like 'em, or 'cause it would piss the Van Dorts off?" Marty asked, grinning.

Alice gave him her best Cheshire smile back. "Do I have to choose?"

"I'm a little surprised you don't have a cat of your own now," Doc admitted. "I thought, after you wrote us about getting Lightning, one was on its way."

"Lightning's turned out to be enough of a handful – especially when paired with a bouncy butterfly who doesn't always comprehend how big he is," Victor replied, rubbing the back of his head.

"Oh yes – we love them both dearly, but they do tend to wear us out," Alice agreed. "And now with the upcoming blessed event. . . ." She patted her belly. "But I'm not ruling it out for the future. Once we've learned to manage all the chaos."

"You'll finally get to meet Lightning today," Victor added, patting the dog's crate. "Christopher's suspended animation device has worked beautifully."

"So I can see," Doc said, peering inside with a grin. "Amazing work, Christopher!"

"It _is_ one of my better Inventions, isn't it?" Christopher said, preening. "I'm glad we were able to put it to such good use."

"Looking forward to meeting the little guy," Marty agreed. His gaze went back to Alice's swollen abdomen. "Too bad you guys are already gonna be back home by the time the baby pops out. . .hey, you pick out names yet?"

"We're still discussing the first," Victor confessed with a sheepish smile.

"Mostly a potential boy's name," Alice added. "A girl will be either Elizabeth or Lorina." She held up a finger. " _But_ we do know _exactly_ what we want for the middle name."

"Oh?" Doc asked, curious. "What is it then?"

Victor and Alice exchanged a smile. "Emmett," Victor said proudly. "Or Emma, depending."

Doc stopped dead, eyes wide. He gaped at them for a moment – then his face went pink as a pleased, shy smile spread across his face. "I – Great Scott," he whispered, ducking his head. "I'm honored."

"That's the idea," Alice said, chuckling. "Don't look so embarrassed – did you really think we wouldn't even consider it?"

"You've been more family to me than my own ever was," Victor nodded, touching his arm. "I couldn't let the opportunity pass me by."

"Oh, sure, but you could let it pass _me_ by," Marty joked, poking Victor's side. "What, Something Martin not good enough for ya?"

"All right, if you're desperate to have someone named after you, Lightning's full name now is Lightning Martin Van Dort," Victor teased, poking him back. More seriously, he added, "If we have another child, trust me, you're next on the list. Martin or – Martina? Martha? Marlene?" His brow furrowed. "What _is_ the feminine form?"

"We'll figure it out if and when number two rolls around," Alice said. "And Marty? If I know you at all, what you should be upset about is us stealing one of _your_ intended names for your children."

Marty laughed and rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, caught red-handed," he allowed. "Though I was thinking Emmett or Emily – which works on two levels now," he added, looking over at their current Emily with a smile. "And yeah, our number two would definitely be Victor or Victoria."

Victor's heart swelled, full to bursting with warm contented feelings. "I guess we're all settled then."

"Why does the local cabinetmaker also do undertaking?"

Sometimes Victor was sure Richard had gone to school specifically to learn how to ruin the mood so perfectly. "I'm sure he doesn't," he said, rolling his eyes as he turned to look at the building his friend was currently staring at. "They couldn't possibly – what the–"

" _Technically_ you're right, Victor – _that_ guy isn't the undertaker," Marty said, doing his best to hide a smile. "He just makes the coffins and tombstones. The actual undertaker is – well, he _looks_ like an undertaker, let's say that."

"So he's very well-suited to his job then," Richard said, giving the cabinet-and-coffin-maker a wave. The man glanced up from his sanding among the garden of unmarked slabs of stone, then did a double take as he registered just who the group standing in front of him consisted of. "As is this fellow, come to think of it! After all, isn't a coffin just a giant cabinet in which you store a person?"

"I wouldn't know – I never got one," Emily said, giving the man a smile. He hesitantly raised his sanding block in return. "Let's leave him to it, he seems a little nervous – oh!"

She jogged forward a few steps, craning her neck for a better look at the banner strung across the street. "'Hill Valley Festival – Dance, Food, Games!'" she read, going up on tiptoes. "Saturday Night, September 5th – Proceeds To Construct The Clock Tower!' That sounds like fun!"

"Oh yeah – they're getting a band and a shooting gallery and everything," Marty said. "Plus a potluck buffet. Should be a blast."

"Nice to have something to attend other than the wedding," Christopher agreed. "The clock tower, hmmm? Quite the project, from what I understood from your letters."

"Yeah, but we're a good chunk of the way through already," Marty told him, waving them on toward a large open area at the end of the street. "That old collection of lumber over there – see, we're a proper town!" he added with a shit-eating grin. "Got a town square and everything!"

"More of a 'vaguely defined rectangle,' but I'll give it to you," Alice joked. She regarded the half-built edifice before them. "It seems to be coming along well – but it's missing a rather vital component, isn't it?"

"The clock's due to arrive on the eight o'clock train from San Francisco on the 4th," Doc reported, checking his own timepiece on automatic. "Mayor Gillin intends to kick the festival off with a dedication ceremony."

"Yeah, I'm hoping Marshall Strickland comes back with it, honestly," Marty added, with a look at a nearby building labeled "Marshall's Office." "I don't like having him out of town so close to my wedding."

Alice's hand moved instinctively to where her Vorpal Blade rested. "Why, exactly?"

"Hill Valley has a persistent – 'visitor,' let's say," Doc said, making a face. "A certain gunslinger and his gang who delight in making trouble. And often they seem to have it out for McFlys in particular." He patted Marty on the back. "If it makes you feel any better, nobody's seen hide nor hair of Mad Dog for at least three weeks now."

"Yeah, which means he's due to show up," Marty grumbled. "And the last thing I want is that asshole crashing the church and making a scene." His eyes flicked around his circle of friends. "Though. . .on the other hand, might be fun to see what the hell he makes of all of you."

"If he's anything like Barkis Bittern, we won't make much of him, _that's_ for certain," Richard replied, eyes narrowed.

"Oh no, Mad Dog's loathsomeness manifests itself in much different ways," Doc told him, scowling. "If that bastard's managed to woo _anyone_ who isn't a saloon girl being paid for her trouble, I will be quite astonished. No, he just likes to throw his weight around as a scofflaw who isn't afraid to get violent. We had a bit of an incident last month, in fact – barged into my shop and forced me to reshoe that terror of a horse of his. A task and a half, let me tell you – I thought for _sure_ that Blackie was going to put a hoof straight through my wall!"

"How could a horse – wait, no, sorry, I'm picturing the shop in _Secundus_ ," Victor cut himself off, rubbing his face. "Sorry, it's just – without having seen anything of where you live here. . . ."

"It's fine," Doc assured him. "I'd have a hard time picturing it too, in your place. I think you'll find the shop comfortingly packed with junk, though. Just mostly blacksmith tools and such instead of Inventions."

"Still can't manage any proper tinkering, hmm?" Alice asked sympathetic.

"A couple of little things here and there," Doc said, offering up a strained smile. "Just have to keep them – you know – quiet."

"Mayor Gillin likes to drop in on us, to 'make sure everything is working as it should,'" Marty added, sighing deeply. "Which – you know, I get it. What happened to send us to Secundus – it was a mess. We screwed up and I don't blame him for being kinda jumpy. I just think the guy needs to draw the line at knocking on the outhouse door to make sure Doc isn't doing anything weird in there."

"That – does seem rather past the bounds of good taste, yes," Victoria said, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I'm sorry you have to put up with such nonsense."

"One adapts," Doc said philosophically. "And makes sure his outhouse door has a working lock."

Victor couldn't help a short laugh. "To be fair, that's just good common sense, isn't it?" He checked the borders of the town vaguely-defined-rectangle, eyes skimming past what had to be the local saloon and what appeared to be a newspaper office. "Where _is_ your–"

" _HIYAH!_ "

Out of nowhere, six horses came thundering through the square, dragging a bouncing carriage behind them. Victor screamed and leapt backward, grabbing Alice's arm to pull her out of the way. The others scrambled to safety as the carriage roared past them. "Hey, watch it, asshole!" Marty yelled, waving at the driver. "You nearly ran over a pregnant lady!"

The driver gave him the briefest of glances, then snapped the reins and returned to his wild ride, nearly plowing over two unfortunate women doing some shopping. "Ugh. . .and _that's_ why I don't use Wells Fargo for anything," Marty grumbled, smacking some dust off his trousers. "Those jerks _never_ look where they're going. Everybody okay?"

"Still in one piece – fortunately," Emily said, pressing on her knee to make sure it stayed together.

"A touch shaken, but I think I'll be fine," Victoria said with a short nod.

"I – I think so," Victor gasped, pressing his free hand against his chest. Oh, damn, his heart was _pounding_! He hadn't had a fright like that since – well, practically since he'd first landed in Secundus! And – what was that smell? It was almost – _Oh no, don't tell me I actually –_

 _Wait. Oh. Ooooooooooh._ Victor bit his lip as he became aware of just how _squishy_ his feet suddenly felt. "P-please don't tell me I'm standing in what I think I'm standing in."

"All right, we won't," Richard said, staring at his feet.

"Oh jeez. . .sorry, Victor," Marty said, patting his arm. "If it makes you feel better, _everybody_ steps in it sooner or later. Fact of life around here."

"Yes, well, it's a fact I would have much preferred learning later." With a horrible sucking sound, Victor managed to extract his feet from the horse muck, making faces all the way. "Oh, and I _liked_ these shoes. . . ."

"Not to worry, Victor – I've got a cleaning solution at my shop," Doc said, holding up a hand. "One of those quiet new Inventions of mine, to get the grease off my work clothes. Give me a couple of minutes and I'll have them looking brand-new."

"Uh – you fixed the part where, if you leave it sitting around for too long, the stuff decides to _eat_ your clothes instead, right?" Marty asked him, rubbing the back of his head. "Because nothing we've got is gonna fit him, and he can't meet Jennifer and my parents in his bare feet."

"I'm 97.75% sure that I've isolated the cause of that and neutralized it," Doc assured him, with an encouraging glance at Victor (who could not say he felt particularly encouraged). "Besides, I'm getting a fresh batch – it took twelve hours to bring the solution into the danger zone. Not to mention shoe leather and cotton cloth are very different substances. . . ." He darted off across the rectangle to what looked like a large stable on the far left of the clock tower. "Back in a tick!'

Alice rubbed Victor's back as their friend disappeared. "Well – it could be worse," she said.

"How?" Victor demanded, glaring at his befouled feet.

"You could have tripped and ended up sitting in it."

Victor winced as he imagined _that_ scene. "Good point."

"On the other hand, it might have been easier to dig a replacement pair of trousers out of the luggage – especially given Hill Valley's lax standards on nudity," Christopher commented. With a glance at Marty, he added, "There's no clean-up service for this? I wouldn't expect an automated one like back home, but. . . ."

"Oh, we have a guy – literally," Marty explained. "E. Jones does his best with his wheelbarrow, but – well, guy can't be everywhere at once. Bet you he's hauling his latest load back to his shed right at the moment." He couldn't help a grin. "Most of us give the place a _wide_ berth."

"I can imagine," Emily said, covering her nose. "We're going to have to watch where we step _very carefully_ when the big day arrives."

"Oh, don't worry – we'll be giving you a proper ride in on the 7th," Marty promised. "You think I want to risk stepping in manure ten minutes before I'm due in the church?"

"Got it!"

Doc reappeared on the scene, carrying a little spray can. "I promise it's not more than a quarter of a day old," he told Victor, pressing a hand against his chest as he caught his breath. "And if it doesn't work – or works too well – your next pair of shoes is on me."

"Honestly, I don't care if they fall off in tatters now, so long as I'm not standing in poop a moment longer," Victor admitted, wrinkling his nose. "And if you could do something about the smell, too. . . ."

"Trust me, this'll do more than that." Doc crouched down and sprayed a fine, mysterious mist all over Victor's feet and ankles. "All right, folks – gather round and watch the magic!"

"You mean the science," Richard said as everyone crowded in curiously.

"Didn't the Lady Heterodyne once say that 'magic' was nothing more than insufficiently analyzed science?" Alice mused.

"I'm hoping this _has_ been sufficiently analyzed," Victor said, watching his shoes carefully. Nothing in particular seemed to be happening. . . .

 _Fwoosh!_ And then, in the barest twinkling of an eye, the clinging muck just – vanished, evaporating off his feet stench and all. His shoes were as fresh as if they'd just come out of the store, and his pant cuffs as clean and sweet as a daisy. "Oh – maybe 'magic' was the right word after all!" he gasped, astonished.

"That _is_ a neat trick," Alice agreed, lightly nudging his shoe with her boot. "What's in it?"

"Enzymes with a taste for anything that stains, particularly oil, grease, and – well, manure," Doc said with a proud grin. "You have _no_ idea how often I wished I'd invented this back in Secundus."

Victor shot him a playful glare. "Given _I_ was the one always reaching into tightest, greasiest cracks in your latest project or assignment, I might."

"I don't suppose you could spare us a few bottles to take home?" Victoria asked. "Or, better yet, the recipe? Because – well, I love you, Christopher, but you _do_ create a _lot_ of laundry."

"Occupational hazard of marrying a Touched, dearest," Christopher grinned at her. "Not to say that I don't want a crack at whipping up a batch!"

"Me either!" Richard put his nose right up to Victor's shoes. "What a clean! It'd be _perfect_ for my hats!"

"Later, guys," Marty said, jerking his thumb toward the nearby saloon doors. "Mom and Dad and all the rest are probably wondering what the hell happened to us by this point."

"Oh, yes, of course. . . ." Victor eyed the entrance apprehensively. "Um – they – t-they _will_ be all right with us, won't they?" he added, scuffing a shoe into the dirt and undoing all the hard work of Doc's enzymes. _Stupid anxiety, flaring up at the worst times. . . ._

"You're talkin' about people who let me go to a foreign country with _Doc_ ," Marty reminded him with a smile. "Trust me, you're good. I've been telling them stories about you guys ever since I came back – they probably feel like they know you already. Not to mention, the whole reason my dad's an author is because he is probably the world's biggest science fiction fan after Doc. Meeting you guys should be a dream come true for him."

"And if not – well, that's his problem," Alice said, with pregnancy-honed bluntness. "Let's get indoors before another carriage tries to play eight-pins with us."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \-->For anyone who doesn't remember -- Flint Lockwood's from the _Cloudy With a Chance of Meatballs_ movie. He was one of the people captured by the Queen in the climax of the last fic.
> 
> \-->The Grasshopper Teapot is the power-up of the same stripe from _American McGee's Alice_ \-- what, it made sense for Victor to invent it!
> 
> \-->Doc's magical cleaner spray is from _Back To The Future: The Game_ \-- his 1931 self invented it there. Turning it from "cleans anything" mode to "eats cloth" mode is actually an in-game puzzle. 
> 
> \-->Lady Heterodyne's comment about "magic being insufficiently analyzed science" is an adaptation of something Agatha said in the "Cinderella" side story that was published on the _Girl Genius_ site a while back.


	3. Too Many Awkward Meetings To Count

September 1st, 1882

Hill Valley, California

2:14 P.M.

If someone had come up to Victor and asked, apropos of nothing, "What is your experience with drinking establishments, my good sir?" Victor's response, after determining why on earth they were asking, would have been a simple, "Very limited." Burtonsville was, publicly, one of the driest villages in all of England, having been founded by a couple who'd frowned on the consumption of alcohol, and didn't even have a pub (making do with a coffee shop instead). Certainly the current population drank, but they did so sparingly, in the privacy of their own homes, to avoid the judgment of neighbors. And while Victor's childhood had included trips to London (to allow his father to check on cannery operations outside of home, and his mother to mingle and be seen during The Season), none of them had ever included a stop at any place called "The Elephant's Elbow" or "The Mangled Mermaid" or "The Flaming Stallion." Victor's arrival in Secundus had offered more opportunities to carouse, but he'd never sought them out – his idea of a fun night was staying in with his quill and ink, or a good book, far away from crowds of too-loud people, tobacco smoke, and bowls of cheap peanuts. Not to mention, he and alcohol weren't on good terms anyway, after the _incident_ where Mayhew and the kitchen staff had tried introducing him to strong ale. The only bar he'd ever stepped foot in was the Ball & Socket, and even then never with the intention of imbibing – just to say hello to Emily's friends on the staff, or watch her pal Bonejangles perform. (Not that he could have drunk there if he'd wanted to – he had it on good authority all the cocktails there included some sort of poison to give them more "kick.") So when he followed Doc and Marty into the Palace Saloon, he wasn't at all sure what to expect.

To his surprise, what he got was a building that wasn't all that different from the Ball & Socket, at least in terms of layout. There was the bar in the back, with a wall full of stacked bottles behind it; tables laid out in little clusters all over the floor; a staircase along the far wall leading up to a second mezzanine level, overlooking the patrons as they downed their drink of choice. It was much less colorful than Secundus's premiere Reanimated pub, though – everything was painted in worn-out shades of brown, layered with dust and mysterious dark stains. It was also a lot quieter than the Ball & Socket, though Victor suspected that had something to do with it being mid-afternoon. There was only one person at the bar itself, drumming their fingers on the counter as they peered into a steaming shot glass of – well, Victor hadn't the slightest. It didn't look particularly healthy, though. To the right, having shoved a few tables together, was a large party that Victor guessed were the various members of the McFly family; to the left was a single table of three old cowboys playing cards. The trio looked up as they all piled inside. "Take a look at what just breezed through the door!" one, a watery-eyed fellow in a derby hat, declared.

"Why, I didn't know the circus was in town," the man next to him, sporting a thin white beard, snickered as he nodded at Richard and Emily.

"Look at her skirt!" the mustachioed man beside him commented, eyeing Alice's hemline. "That dress belongs with the ladies upstairs!"

Alice turned to face him, glaring. "How about the rest of it?"

The men drew back, staring at her pregnant belly with trepidation. "Oh, ah, beggin' your pardon, ma'am," the mustachioed man said, touching his hat. "Just – ain't exactly proper, is it, to have your skirt all the way up by your knees?"

"Says a man whom I would bet good money uses the public bath house," Alice returned. "Hasn't anyone told you making personal remarks is impolite?"

"Yeah, shut it, Jeb," Marty said, scowling as he pulled his friends along. The men humphed and went back to their game, muttering to themselves. "Just ignore 'em, guys. They're the local trio of jerks."

"Marty!"

A young brunette woman about Marty's age broke away from the group on the right, hurrying over to wrap him in a hug. "Took the long way around, huh?" she joked, pecking his lips.

"Hey, the train station was _packed_!" Marty laughed, returning the kiss. "And I wanted to give the guys the lay of the land." He slipped his arm around her shoulders as he turned to the rest of the group with the biggest grin Victor had ever seen on him. "Guys, I'd like you to meet my fiancee – Miss Jennifer Parker."

"Pleasure to meet you all," Jennifer said, smiling up and down the line before offering her hand to Victor. "Especially you – the famous Victor, right?"

"That's me," Victor confirmed, shaking. "It's wonderful to finally meet you."

"Same here – though, honestly, I feel like I know you already," Jennifer admitted with a giggle. "Marty and Doc wouldn't stop talking about you when they got back."

"By which she means it took me a good _month_ to break the habit of calling you over whenever I needed help with something and Marty was already busy," Doc confessed, laughing awkwardly.

"Hey, I was doing it too," Marty said, blushing. "Just – you get used to a guy always being there!"

"Well, it took _Victor_ over a fortnight to stop trying to call _you two_ on the telephonic every time he had a new idea he wanted to share, so. . . ." Alice offered her hand to Jennifer as Victor tried to tamp down on the pink creeping into his cheeks. "I'm Alice, Victor's wife. I don't know how often they talked about me."

"Enough," Jennifer assured her. "They had some pretty wild stories about all of you. . .oh, yeah, congratulations on the baby! You must be so excited."

"Oh, it's about an equal mix of nerves and excitement at the moment," Alice said, before glancing up at Victor. "He's mostly nerves, and I'm mostly excitement."

"Ha ha," Victor deadpanned. "Sure, equal – you do realize that I'm almost a foot taller than you?"

"Yes, but I think I make up for that in the _other_ direction these days," Alice pointed out, running her hand over her belly.

Marty snickered. "I really did miss you guys. . .anyway!" He clapped his hands together and walked over to the far end of the tables, standing next to a man with slicked-back brown hair in a neat part and an equally-well-kept mustache. "Introductions – this guy over here is Jennifer's dad, Mr. Robert Parker."

"Pleasure to meet you," Mr. Parker said, inclining his head.

"And next to him–" Marty moved around the table, laying his hands on the shoulders of two elderly people. "Are Grampa Seamus and Gramma Maggie!"

"Hello, strangers!" the man said cheerfully – Victor noted with interest he looked almost exactly like Marty, except for a bushy head of graying red hair and matching mustache. "Welcome to Hill Valley!"

"Aye, nice to meet you at last," his wife – a rather stern-faced woman sitting primly against the chair – agreed. "Our grandson speaks very highly of you all. I hope you live up to expectations."

"We shall do our best," Christopher promised with a slight bow. His gaze shifted to the next man over, who also bore a striking resemblance to an older Marty. "I assume you're one of Marty's uncles."

"William McFly," the man confirmed. "Good to meet you."

"And next to _him_ are Uncle Artie and Aunt Sylvia," Marty continued, moving around to pat the heads of a long-faced man wearing a tan hat and the curly-haired blonde woman practically sitting in his lap. "They're the ones who live out in New Jersey."

"Nice to meet ya!" Sylvia said, grinning. "I'm kind of an out-of-towner like you folks myself – grew up in Manitoba, eh?"

"That's Canada, right?" Victor asked. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the person at the bar glance over, apparently attracted by the fuss. "California must be quite the change."

"Oh yeah." Sylvia fanned herself with a hand. "Never got this hot up north in September, that's for sure. Still don't know how these guys stand it."

"You get used to it," the man on her right – identical to Artie expect for his clothing and lack of a hat – said, smiling. He saluted at Victor and his friends. "George McFly – I'm Marty's father. And this is my wife, Lorraine."

"It's great to finally get to meet you!" the brown-haired woman beside him said. "Marty's been going on about all of you for months now."

"Yeah, it's gotten _really_ annoying," the plump brunette at the far side of the last table groaned.

"Now you know how I feel every time _you_ start going on about all your 'gentlemen callers," Marty retorted, poking her in the arm. "And finally, the two mistakes Mom and Dad had before me – my sister Linda and my brother Dave."

"Hey, _somebody_ has to got to be the normal one in the family," Dave – sporting curly black hair and a gray suit – responded. He looked Richard up and down, taking a moment to fully appreciate his hat. "Let me guess – the haberdasher?"

"Guilty as charged," Richard said, touching the brim. "Richard Dodgson – and this is my wife, Emily."

"Pleasure to meet you all," Emily said, flashing the assembled McFlys a grin. "I'm _very_ much looking forward to the wedding."

"Sir Christopher Lloyd," Christopher introduced himself with a theatrical bow. "And my darling wife, Victoria."

Victoria curtsied. "Thank you very much for having us all here."

"It's very kind of you," Alice agreed. "And we're Alice and Victor–"

" _Van Dort?!_ "

Victor froze, eyes wide. That voice. . .it – it _couldn't_ be. . .he whirled around. Standing at the bar, gawking at him like he'd seen a ghost, was – "Gordon? Gordon _Tannen_?"

"Tannen?!" the barman repeated, jerking back. "Land's sake, son, _he's_ the kin you're lookin' for? _Mad Dog_?!"

"If – if that's Buford Tannen, yeah," Gordon said, not taking his eyes off Victor. "He's my – my cousin. We think. Ma did what she could, but the family tree ain't in great shape."

"Shit," Jeb said, sharing an astonished glance with the rest of the "trio of jerks." "Had no idea he even _had_ any family. 'Specially not with an accent like yours – where you hail from, son?"

"England," Victor supplied, still trying to wrap his head around this turn of events. "Little village called Burtonsville. His – his father works for my father. . .what are you _doing_ here?"

"I could ask you the same question!" Gordon retorted, walking over to him. "My God. . .you know, when you first disappeared, I thought for sure you were _dead_? For a whole fortnight! The minute the crier announced you'd never come out of the woods that day, the rumors just started _flying_! You'd hit your head and drowned in the stream; you'd broken your leg and starved in a ditch; you'd gotten picked up by that Madboy and his assistant who'd been wandering around and gotten chopped up into spare parts. And then, out of nowhere, your ma and pa and the Everglots are all planning a trip to the Crazy City because you'd gone and gotten yourself kidnapped and brainwarped! And then, while _they're_ gone, the news comes that somebody tried to take the place over and blew half of it up! Thought we'd seen the last of your whole family! And then your parents slink back into town without you and won't tell anybody what happened, just you're not coming home, and the Everglots come back without their daughter because she's marrying _Her Majesty's White Knight_. . . ." He poked Victor in the chest. "You Reanimated now?"

"No," Victor said, stepping back from the probing finger. "And I'm not 'brainwarped' either. You know that train you and your cronies forced me into? I ended up getting caught on part of it and accidentally taken to Secundus by Doc and Marty – er, Dr. Brown and Marty McFly," he clarified, nodding at the pair. "They didn't even know I was there until we landed on the roof of Doc's shop. And – well, they were nice to me. Very apologetic, took me in and made sure I was all right. . .and then we all got to talking, and Doc told me about what it was that he did, and. . . ." He looked at his friends again, smiling as he remembered that first awkward conversation which had ripened so quickly with possibility and promise. "We got along so well that Doc offered me a job and a place to stay. And I accepted."

"You – you _wanted_ to stay?" Gordon blinked a few times, then shook his head. "You. Victor Van Dort. Bullshit. Nobody _wants_ to stay in that loopy city unless they're nuttier than a fruitcake!"

"In my experience, fruitcake doesn't _actually_ have that many nuts in it," Richard spoke up. "It should be 'nuttier than a nutcake' or 'fruitier than a fruitcake.'"

"I think the latter phrase might lead people down a rather _different_ line of thought," Alice told him, before leveling a glare at Gordon. "So _you're_ the one who made Victor's life such a misery back in Burtonsville. You look less reptilian than I imagined, but not by much."

"Excuse me? What's it to–" Gordon paused, taking in the rounded belly, and softened his tone. "Uh, yeah, why – why do you care, ma'am?"

"Well, if you'd let me finish my introduction. . . ." Alice extended a hand, with a look that said if Gordon actually touched her he'd lose his in return. "Alice Van Dort. Victor's wife."

Victor could practically see the gears in Gordon's head struggling to turn. "Wife?" he repeated, staring at her like she'd suddenly sprouted snakes for hair.

"Yes. As in married woman. Married to him. Is that such a hard concept to grasp?" Alice asked, folding her arms. "Then again, it's not like Victor ever praised your intelligence whenever he spoke about you. Or anything else about you, come to think of it."

Gordon's eyes narrowed. "Anybody ever tell you a lady should be seen and not heard?"

"Yes. I generally ignore them."

"I'd mind your manners," Christopher said coolly. "You're speaking to one of the most renowned monster-killers in all of Secundus."

" _And_ my counter lady," Richard added. "Which is a job that carries much less risk of death or dismemberment, but much more risk of dealing with angry or generally ignorant people. Which is, I hope, the skill set more relevant to the current situation."

"This is – how the heck am I supposed to believe all of this?" Gordon demanded, spreading his arms to encompass Victor and Alice. "First you're still breathing, then you _wanted_ to stay in Secundus with these freaks, then you're _hitched_?!" He took another look at Alice's stomach. "And you're gonna be a _father_ too?! Cripes, _Can Dort_ , you never even knew what to _do_ with a girl back in Burtonsville!"

"That was before I met Alice," Victor replied, sharing a warm look with her. "And I know that's your favorite nickname for me, but it's rather out of date. My parents have disowned me – that's why they don't want to talk about me anymore."

"I don't blame 'em!" Gordon threw his hands in the air. "Staying in the _Mad Science Capital of the World_? Especially after whatever happened with that 'Hearts Queen' or whoever went down? You lose your marbles, Can Dort?!"

Victor couldn't help his smile. "Actually. . .yes."

Gordon's face progressed rapidly through intense puzzlement, cog-grinding thought, sudden realization – then his eyes went wide, and his jaw practically hit the floor. "What – you – you – _you_?!"

"Me, me, me," Victor confirmed, savoring the moment. Not _quite_ the punch in the face he'd always wanted to deliver to Gordon, but the effect was much the same. "I actually went Creative during the whole mess with the Queen of Hearts."

"He's Secundus's premiere lepidopterist now," Doc added, puffed up with pride. "Has an incredible talent for creating new species of butterflies and moths."

"He even has a riding butterfly," Victoria added. "A very dear one, too."

"Riding – no, no," Gordon proclaimed, waving his hands in front of him. "Sorry, Miss Everglot – er, Mrs. White – but this is such a load of _horseshit_." He stepped up to Victor, jabbing him in the chest. "I _know_ you, Can Dort. You're no _scientist_ – even a crazy one. You're that girly _freak_ who spent all his time hiding from the rest of the world 'cause it wasn't _good_ enough for you. Wasting all your time on pictures of butterflies and flowers. Cowering behind your ma and pa and their _money_." He slapped Victor's arm. "How many times did I leave you shaking up a tree, huh? Or give you a shiner? How many times did I send you home crying to that army of servants your ma bought off the backs of people like my pa? And now you're this big scary Madboy? Living in Secundus? Married and all? That is such crap. You can barely find your own arse to wipe it! What _really_ happened, Can Dort? Mummy and Daddy decided their son was better off as an experiment than running their precious cannery? This bitch get herself knocked up and blamed you thinking she might get the fortune?"

"You bastard!" Alice snapped, stepping forward. "Not to mention stupid – why would I search him out as a potential father _now_ if he's already been disowned?"

"Maybe you learned about it too late," Gordon replied, not taking his eyes off Victor. "Well, Can Dort? Got anything to say for yourself? A-a-anything I m-m-might be able to u-u-understand?"

A long thread of anger unspooled itself in Victor's guts, slithering up through his heart and into his brain. Two years. Two years, and Gordon _still_ thought of him as nothing more than a spoiled brat. His favorite punching bag. He'd spent _two years_ building a life and a home and a name for himself in Secundus, and this – this _fool_ refused to respect it. Refused to respect _him_. His jaw tightened, nails biting into his palms. How _dare_ Tannen speak to him like this? How _dare_ he doubt his genius? How _dare_ he imply that what he and Alice had was fake? _Show him,_ a dark voice hissed at the back of his brain as the anger grew, wrapping tight around his entire mind. _Show them. Show them **all**._

"You are–" Alice started, looking about ready to take a fist to Gordon's nose.

Victor held up a hand, pausing her tirade. He stepped forward slightly, so he and Gordon were toe to toe. He leaned in, bring his face level with Gordon's. And then –

He _smiled_.

The effect was dramatic. All the blood rushed straight out of Gordon's face as he got a solid eyeful of a full too-wide too-bright too- _toothy_ Madboy grin. "I – what – you–" he babbled, backing away on pure instinct.

Victor leisurely pursued him, a panther loping after its prey. "You know, Gordon, I should really thank you," he said, his tone shifting as the madness took full hold, roaring in his head with the force of a hurricane. _Damn_ , but this was fun. Why didn't he let loose more often? "If you and your little cronies hadn't forced me onto Doc's train, I'd still be stuck in that _miserable_ little village for the rest of my life. Drowning in the _stink_ of fish. A slave to Nell's active social calendar. And – oh yes, having to deal with _your_ idiotic arse all the time."

"L-look, Victor," Gordon babbled, voice high and weedy. "I was just – ah – j-joshing!" His backside hit a table, and he braced himself against it. "You know how it is! You see an – an old mate after a while, and you–"

"Just have to start tearing him down all over again?" Victor slammed his hands onto the table on either side of Gordon's, putting his six-feet-three-inches through their full paces as he loomed over his victim. "Pity for you that won't work anymore."

"I – I didn't mean anything by it," Gordon squeaked, looking about ready to wet himself.

"Didn't you? You meant it every other time." He leaned in further, putting him and Gordon practically nose to nose. "Do you know just who stopped the Queen of Hearts from destroying Secundus? From tearing the place to the ground? From going after the rest of England, because God knows she wouldn't have stopped with just _one_ city? _Me. I_ took her down. _I_ slaughtered her like the monster she was. _I_ ripped her apart to the very _bone_! Just _hours_ after going Creative." His smile widened, all metaphorical fangs. "What do you think I could have done to _you_ in the end? If you'd provoked me just _one_ time too many?"

Gordon opened and closed his mouth a few times, unable to speak – but Victor could read the answer in those terrified eyes. "I – I – I'll be back!" he cried at last, shooting a desperate glance at the bartender. "Later! When – _later_!"

Without further ado, he ducked under Victor's arm, tripped and collided with a chair, scrambled upright, kicked over a spittoon, then finally managed to flee out the door. Victor straightened, allowing his grin to turn smug. _Oooooh. . .nothing like my fantasies growing up, but that was_ even better _than giving him a black eye. He won't be insulting_ me _again! And all the_ rest _of these accursed fools can –_

"Oh _hell_ , McFly – can't you ever make friends with _normal_ folk?"

Victor started, then turned to see the old-timers scowling at Marty. "Beggin' your pardon for the language, ladies, but still," Jeb continued. "It's bad enough that the only blacksmith we got this side of Grass Valley is one of them freaks! What are you doing, dragging more here?"

"Mayor Gillin's gonna have your hide and no mistake," his derby-hatted friend agreed. "Ain't that right, Zeke?"

"Shear you faster than a sheep," the white-bearded man confirmed.

Victor sighed, fixing them with a glare. _Can learn their lesson the hard way, I suppose. Why do you always have to show them_ all _. . . ._ He stepped forward, ready to give the trio a personal taste of the madness –

And stopped. Because out of the corner of his eye, he could see Sylvia, clinging to Artie like her life depended on it. Slowly, he looked over at the gathered McFlys. Dave and Linda had scooted away from the table, as if figuring distance was their only hope. Lorraine was gripping George's arm so hard Victor would be shocked if he didn't have bruises. George, however, didn't seem to notice, staring at Victor with an astonished light in his eyes and a strange mixture of fear and intrigue on his face. Artie had his arm around Sylvia and his hat pulled down over his face – perhaps to avoid seeing the potential carnage. Maggie was giving him a Nell-worthy scowl of disapproval, while Seamus looked like he wanted nothing more than to make an excuse and flees the table. And poor Mr. Parker was just plain old gawking, as if he'd never seen anything so shocking in his entire life. Even Jennifer looked shaken, cuddled up against Marty as if seeking protection. The fragile tower of his anger shuddered and collapsed, leaving Victor buried in a pile of embarrassment and shame. _What the hell are you_ doing _?! You're supposed to be in_ control _of your temper! Fine first impression to make on Marty's family there. They're probably about ready to throw me on the bonfire._ "I'm – I'm sorry," he mumbled, staring at his shoes. "I didn't – I just – he m-made me so _a-angry_ , and I. . .I shouldn't have s-sunk to his level."

"Oh, trust me, Tannens find all new levels to sink to if you give 'em long enough," Marty said, shaking his head. "That jerk was asking for it, spewing all that bull. . .how the heck did you _survive_ growing up in Burtonsville with him around?"

"Let's just say there's a very good reason I can climb just about anything. . . ." Victor sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I thought. . .once I abandoned Burtonsville, that was it. I would never see him again. Certainly not _here_."

"Life is full of unpleasant surprises," Doc told him, patting him on the back. "If it makes you feel any better, you certainly gave him one too. After such a performance, he shouldn't be eager to bother you again."

"And maybe, if you're _really_ lucky, when he does find Mad Dog, the guy will just gut him because he doesn't like his face," Marty added.

Victor looked up, surprised. "Even if they're related?"

"One of the people rumored to be on Buford Tannen's kill list is his own _father_ ," Doc said. "Blood ties mean nothing to him."

"Yeah. . . ." Jennifer tipped her head from side to side, studying Victor from all available angles. "Wow. . .you know, Marty's _told_ me about you being a Touched, and that little speech you gave after you killed the Queen, but – nothing like seeing the real thing. It's – _weird_ , hearing a voice like that come out of you."

"I'm sorry," Victor repeated, running his fingers through his hair. "I never – I wouldn't have actually–"

"We know," Marty assured him, voice soft but intense. "You're not like that."

"Sounded like it just now," Dave said, cautiously scooting back forward. "Sheesh. And here's me thinking someone could sit on you and break you."

"Yeah. . . ." Linda eyed him a minute. "So. . .how much do you want to use that voice on Marty to get him to stop leaving his towels on the floor of the bathhouse?"

Victor burst out laughing, the tension in the air shattering like glass. "Nothing," he said between snickers. "I'm sorry, but I don't think _anything's_ going to make him stop that!"

"You don't know until you try!"

"Yes, and I _have_ ," Doc said, trying and failing to hide a grin. "It worked for about a week."

"I don't do it _all_ the time!" Marty protested, pink around the ears. "Just, you know, you get thinking about a song or something, and – and hey, how many times have we had to drag _you_ out of the bathtub because you'd been in there an hour?"

"Once! Because I was going to meet Craig!" Linda shot back. "I couldn't smell like _pig_!"

"Hang on a second, I thought you were getting all dolled up for _Greg_ that day," Dave said, rubbing his chin.

"No, definitely Craig. Greg was the day before, remember? Brought over the potato soup?"

"Oh yeah. . . ."

Alice slung her arm around Victor's waist. "Well – Marty's sister hears you in full Touched fury mode, and her first instinct is to ask if you can bully her brother out of a bad habit," she commented, looking up at him. "Suddenly I'm much less surprised about how Marty ended up as an Igor."

"Hey, no – no no no," Linda declared, holding up her hands. "The weirdo science stuff is all him and Dad. The rest of us are _normal_ people."

"Pretty freaky definition of 'normal' you're using there," Marty muttered.

"Linda, Marty, stop it," George said, frowning at each in turn. Then he turned back to Victor with a slightly-nervous smile. "I don't think I've ever heard Doc get like that when someone angered him."

"I – I d-do go a bit overboard on the shouting when I'm u-upset," Victor admitted, rubbing the back of his head. "B-blame it on me first going Creative in the bowels of a ruined house under the control of a monster. I'm not usually like that, I s-swear."

"Hard to think of somebody who can pull out a voice like that doing butterflies," Artie said, finally lifting his hat.

"Yeah – the thing about having a riding butterfly true?" Dave asked, leaning on his hand.

"Yes – his name's Ferdinand," Victor said, only too happy for the opportunity to talk about his less-scary work. "I wish I could have brought him over, but there was no way for us to get him on the airship."

"So what's in the box?" the derby-hatted fellow demanded, nodding at the crate now lying near Alice's feet. "Some other creepy-crawlie fit to strip the flesh off our bones?"

Victor allowed himself a scowl. "It's my dog – a perfectly ordinary corgi."

The three old-timers looked at each other. "You ever hear of a 'cor-gee,' Jeb?" Zeke asked, one eyebrow raised.

"Nope," Jeb said. "Levi?"

"Ain't no such thing," the derby-hatted man declared. "Probably a giant spider wearing fake ears."

"It is not! Here, let me show you." Victor turned the crate toward them and reached for the suspension knob. "It's about time we let the poor thing out anyway."

"Careful, Victor – the doors being closed aren't going to stop him _here_ ," Alice said, nodding at the high-set saloon doors.

"Though the horse manure might," Richard said, peeking over them outside.

"I'm ready to grab him," Victor promised, positioning himself right by the door. He gave the knob a sharp twist, then opened the door, one arm outstretched. "Come on, Lightning!"

There was a moment of silence – then, with a happy bark, Lightning ejected himself from the crate. Victor just barely managed to scoop him up in time. "Gotcha! Yes, yes, I missed you too," he said, laughing as he was attacked by a flurry of slobbery kisses. "Who's my good boy. . .see?" he added, holding him up for the old-timers' benefit. "Dog."

Levi, Jeb, and Zeke squinted suspiciously at the squirming corgi. "That ain't a dog," Zeke finally said, folding his arms. "Cross between a rat and a fox, it looks like."

Victor huffed as Lightning panted obliviously. "Well, give me that he's not a giant spider."

"Still room in there for one," Levi insisted, pointing back at the crate. "Looks like _something_ squirming around in there, anyway."

"Oh, for – will you please _stop_?!" Victor demanded, doing his best to fight back the madness leaking into his voice as he tucked Lightning under his arm. _Harmless old men, harmless old men, annoying busybody_ jerks _but still_ harmless old men _. . . ._ "Do you really think I would drag _any_ of my experiments halfway around the world to attend my friend's _wedding_?"

_BOOOOOING!_

Victor just about leapt out of his skin as something large and green flew past him and landed right in the middle of the old-timers' table, scattering cards everywhere. The three men screamed and flung themselves to the safety of the floor. "Chester! Do something!" Jeb cried as he hid as much of himself as he could under his chair.

"I ain't getting involved in this!" the barman declared, already crouched behind his bar. "Anybody else want to, fine with me!"

"What on earth _was_ that?" Emily gasped, skeletal hand pressed against her unbeating heart.

"I – I don't–" Victor babbled, trying both to keep the overexcited Lightning calm and parse what his eyes were telling him.

"It's the Grasshopper Teapot!" Richard cried, eyes wide with delight as he darted over. "So _that's_ what it looks like – excellent work, Victor!" He paused. "Why was it in there with Lightning?"

"I didn't put him in there! The last time I saw him, he was in my lab–"

Victor's eyebrows lowered as it suddenly clicked. "Oh. _Oh,_ " he groaned, pressing a hand against his face. "I am going to _skin_ Cheshire."

"Cheshire?" Sylvia repeated, still clinging to Artie. "Cheshire who?"

"The Cheshire Cat – he's a friend of ours back in Secundus," Alice said, pinching the bridge of her nose. "As you might imagine, he's a Fabricated feline – and he's developed a taste for harassing Victor's creations."

"He was after this one right before we left," Victor continued, gripping Lightning a bit tighter as he tried to escape and make friends with the anxiously-vibrating grasshopper. "It must have darted into Lightning's carrier to get away from him – right before I had to get Lightning in there and get out the door." He sighed, rubbing his forehead with his free hand. "I do have to give him that he tried to tell me, but of _course_ he phrased it in the form of a riddle, and since I was in a rush. . .and of course, since we were using your suspended animation device, Christopher, none of us could tell we had any surprise passengers until just now."

"I suppose if nothing else, we can call this an extremely successful field test of the kennel," Christopher said, shaking his head.

"Mmmm. . .you can get up now," Victor added to the old-timers. "It's not going to hurt you."

"Why'd it jump at us like that then?" Levi demanded, pressing his hat against his head.

"Because it's a grasshopper?" Alice suggested, in a tone that said she didn't think much of Levi's brainpower.

"Also because it's a baby and it's scared," Victor said, shifting as he struggled to keep a grip on Lightning. "Come on, boy. . .Doc, can you take him for a minute? Thanks." He passed over the whining corgi, then slowly approached the table. The Grasshopper Teapot hopped around the perimeter, lid rattling with nerves. Victor waited for it to pass him, then grabbed it firmly by the back handle. It started and tensed for another jump, but he lifted it off the table before it could actually get far. "It's all right," he said, petting it as it trembled. "You're fine, don't worry."

The members of the McFly and Parker families on display relaxed a smidgen as he tucked it against his chest. "Okay, so. . . _why_?" Linda asked, waving a hand at the Teapot.

"He's a mad scientist, sis," Dave pointed out. "The answer might just be 'why not?'"

"No, there's some logic here," Victor said, grinning. "It's mostly Richard's fault, really – he and his friend are tea connoisseurs, and we got to talking one day about different blends that might do different things to you if drunk. A chamomile that was a literal sleeping potion, an Earl Gray that gave you a more posh accent, that sort of thing. I suggested a green tea that let you jump as high and far as a grasshopper, and – well, I couldn't stop thinking about it even after the game was over. So just for fun, I decided to draw the kind of creature that you might get that kind of tea from, and. . . ." He hoisted the Teapot up. "This resulted."

"What's so special about jumping like a grasshopper?" Artie asked, scratching under his hat. "I mean, sure, they can get pretty high and all for a bug, but. . .it's not that impressive, is it?"

"Oooh, that depends on the species," Victor told him brightly. "Some of the larger ones can leap three feet in one bound. That's _twenty times_ their own body length." His grin widened. "Imagine being able to do that at _your_ height."

"Wow. Woulda been useful to get away from Kid," Sylvia commented, looking at her husband.

"Tell me about it," Artie agreed, taking off his hat to wipe his brow.

"What does it eat?" Maggie demanded, arms folded. "Seamus and I have had to fight off all sorts going after our corn lately, and I won't have this adding to the work."

"Don't worry – it's a teapot, remember?" Victor told her. "It eats tea leaves so it can brew them!" Then, abruptly remembering where he was, he added, "Uh. . .you – do have tea in Hill Valley, right? It's not picky about what kind, but. . . ."

"General store's sure to have something," Seamus assured him. "Maybe not leaves loose, but one of those bricks you can chip away at. Would that do?"

"In a pinch? Probably. We'll find out, anyway." Victor petted the Teapot between the feelers as it squirmed. "We won't let you starve, silly thing."

"Between this and the dog, seems like you have a lot of practice being a father already," Doc observed with a smile, making Victor blush.

"Father to _monsters_ ," Zeke grumbled, finally retaking his seat.

Victor shot him a look. "I didn't know it was in there! I'm sorry it frightened you, I really am, but it's not going to hurt you. And neither is Lightning – he's a perfectly ordinary dog. Yes, _dog_ ," he repeated as the men cast incredulous looks at the corgi. "I promise."

"None of us are here to stir up any trouble," Victoria added, clasping her hands before her. "We're just here to celebrate a dear friend's wedding. That's all."

"Well, I hope you're telling the truth, Mrs. – White, was it?" Jeb said, peering out the window. "'Cause here comes the mayor, and I don't think he'll be keen on having that grasshopper whatsit hoppin' all over the saloon."

"What?!" Marty darted over. " _Shit!_ Victor, hide it! Fast!"

"Wha – I – _where_?!" Victor demanded, looking around wildly as the Grasshopper attempted to leap on thin air.

"Put it under the table!" Doc said, pointing to the forest of McFly legs nearby. "And if we all stand in front of it–"

"Ew! What if it _crawls_ on me?" Linda protested, scooting back with a grimace.

"You'll live!" Marty snapped. "Go, Victor! He's almost here!"

With no better options springing to mind, Victor did as asked, shoving the baffled Grasshopper Teapot under the tables. "All right – tallest in the middle!" Christopher commanded, sliding naturally back into the role of military leader. "That means you, Richard! Victor, you're next to him, on the left, with Alice. Emily, Doc, on the right, then Victoria and myself – and – Marty, Jennifer, you balance us out next to Alice! Go! Go! And not a _word_ from you lot!" he added, rounding on the startled old-timers.

"How are you gonna stop us?" Jeb asked, though he didn't sound as brave as Victor suspected he wanted to.

"The pregnant woman will break into tears about how everyone's been so _mean_ if she has to," Alice supplied as they all scrambled into their indicated spots.

"Cool it, cool it!" Marty hissed as he got into place. "He's–"

 _Swoosh!_ The saloon doors swung open, and a slightly rotund man in a smart black suit and top hat entered the room. Everyone, including the old-timers, straightened up and brushed off their clothes. "Well," the man said, sticking his thumbs under his lapels, "Mr. Wilson down at the train station just informed me that our guests have arrived." He turned toward the group. "I understand you are – are. . . ."

He trailed off into a gawk as his gaze hit Richard, standing tall and proud in the center of the Grasshopper Teapot honor guard. Richard offered him a smile and a tip of the hat. "Hello! Mayor Gillin, right? Marty and Doc have told us a lot about you!"

There was a silence that look a good eon to pass. Victor shifted anxiously from foot to foot, taking little glances back at his creation. So far, it seemed the Grasshopper Teapot was content to stay back in the dark. . .but sooner or later, his gut warned, it was going to get tired of being cooped up by a lot of giant legs. . . . "Mr. Brown. Mr. McFly," Gillin finally got out, tone cold. "You neglected to inform me that one of your friends was an Automaton."

"Er, Mixed Bag, technically," Richard said, holding up a finger. "I started out purely organic." He tapped his head. "And this bit still is. Mostly."

"We did inform you that he engaged in self-modification," Doc added, keeping his voice carefully level. "And that you would probably find his appearance – striking." His eyes flicked to Emily. "And I _know_ I told you his wife was Reanimated."

Gillin regarded her, eyebrows reaching for his hat brim. "Are they all such unnatural colors?"

"Um – no," Emily said, scuffing her foot against the floorboards. "Just – ones like me. It's the method used, you see."

"Seems rather – unhealthy."

"I'd rather have her blue than not have her here at all," Richard said, frowning. "See here, Mayor, you don't have to focus your evil eye on us exclusively. There's four other people here for you to glare at!"

"Yes, well, the rest of them managed to look relatively normal," Gillin replied, looking up and down the line. "Which of you is the fabled 'Victor?'"

Victor very reluctantly raised a hand. "H-how do you do?" he said, trying a smile and getting a rictus instead.

Gillin leveled a look sharper than Alice's Vorpal Blade at him. "I would be doing much better if I wasn't being forced to accommodate three extra Touched and their wives in my town the same week we're getting ready to dedicate the clock tower and welcome our new schoolteacher."

"Er – i-it's not like we have any designs on either," Victor said, fingers knotting into his tie. "We're just here for Marty's wedding."

"You're declaring us guilty of something before you've even met us," Christopher added, folding his arms and lifting his chin, looking every inch Her Majesty's proud and regal White Knight.

"That's 'cause he's the smartest mayor we've ever had," Zeke declared, smirking.

Christopher shot him a look. "We are not here to cause trouble," he continued. "Despite any appearances to the contrary, we _are_ capable of acting like Regular human beings when the time calls for such."

_thump!_

Victor tensed as the table behind them rattled. _Oh shit,_ he thought, as the old-timers subtly scooted forward, clearly eager for a show. _No no no, don't get restless now_ –

"Sorry!" George waved a hand – not that it did much good, given his position. "That was me! Kicked the table leg."

Mayor Gillin ignored him – and the noise, much to Victor's relief. "I certainly hope you are," he replied to Christopher, pushing his hat back. His eyes skimmed up and down the line. "I want to make something very clear to everyone – you are here at my sufferance. As long as you keep your heads down and your noses clean, I will tolerate your temporary presence in my town." He leaned forward, eyes hard. "But if I see _one_ mutated chicken stalking down the road, _one_ runaway mechanical doodad tearing up a shop, one single solitary _hint_ that you haven't left your trouble-making 'science' at home. . .I will have Marshall Strickland and his men escort you to the border. And if you try to come back in. . . ."

The implication hung heavy in the hair, pressing down on all of them. Victor glanced at the old-timers. They were all grinning to beat the band, with Zeke miming a gunshot with _pop!_ of his lips. Victor closed his eyes and gritted his teeth to steady himself, then turned back to the mayor. "Sir – we have no interest in taking your town down around your ears."

"Yes, well, _Doctor_ Brown here claimed when he arrived that all _he_ wanted to do was serve as the local blacksmith," Gillin retorted, casting a hate-filled glare at Doc.

"They're well aware of our history together, Mayor Gillin," Doc responded, eyebrows low. "And I have to ask – does your little threat apply equally to the ladies in the party? In particular, Victor's wife Alice?"

"Well, obviously I would like to _avoid_ arresting womenfolk. . .but yes, if they too cause any panics, they will be removed," Gillin replied, folding his arms. "Why should this 'Alice' get any special treatment?"

"Take a look at me and find out," Alice said, waving to get his attention. "Unless you're too blinded by your hatred of scientists and anyone associated with them?"

"Ma'am, I'm not sure I like your – oh," Gillin said, choking on the rest of his words as his eyes finally landed on Alice's belly. "Ah – I – I see. Well then." He took off his hat, turning it round and round in his hands. "I assure you, we'll make every effort to accommodate you. Even if your husband is ejected."

"Oh, no need," Alice said, holding up a hand. "I'm not actually _asking_ for any special treatment. If Victor goes, you can be assured that I'll be right beside him."

"The same goes for myself and Emily," Victoria added, Emily nodding her agreement. "If you escort Christopher from the town, you'll be escorting me as well."

"If it makes you feel better, we wouldn't be trying to come back, either," Emily continued. "Everyone's made it very clear they're just waiting to see the back of us."

"As you like it," Gillin said, getting his feet back under him. "But I won't have it be said that I'm not giving you a fair chance. So long as you manage not to cause any trouble for one full week, you can stay." He sniffed. "I understand that's _difficult_ for people of your sort, but I hope you can manage."

"Of course, sir," Victor said coolly.

 _Thump!_ "Sorry, me again," George said. "Should probably stop swinging my leg, huh?"

"It's fine, Mr. McFly," Gillin said, rolling his eyes.

"Hubert." Seamus came around the group, not realizing the near-panic-attack he was giving Victor by leaving part of the table unguarded against antsy insect activity. "Do excuse me, Mrs. Van Dort. . .they're going to be staying at me farm anyway," he said, with a conciliatory smile at the mayor. "Well out of the way. You won't be seeing more than a couple of hours of them a day, if that. Maggie and I can keep an eye on them. Besides, they seem like mostly nice folks so far."

"Nice?!" Jeb sputtered. He pointed at Victor. "That one there, the lanky one – he's got a smile that'd chill any man's blood!"

"And then there's that _thing_ they brought with them," Levi added.

"Thing?" Gillin's head swiveled like a wax cylinder on a music machine. "What are you – what _is_ that?!"

Victor's heart damn near stopped. _No! I_ knew _it was going to get out! Damn it, okay, think – Sir, that wasn't me, that was just something that ended up in our luggage, it's harmless, please don't have anyone shot –_

"Has no one in this town seen a corgi before?"

Victor blinked. "I mean, really," Alice said, as Doc held up the excited little dog for the mayor's inspection. "I know he's quite different from any working man's dog, but that's still just what he is."

"Arf!" Lightning agreed, running on air.

Gillin squinted suspiciously at Lightning, then sighed. "Well it doesn't look dangerous," he allowed. "Just be sure to get it on a leash." Turning back to Seamus, he added, "We're all very grateful that you've agreed to put them up. It's just. . . ." He glanced at Marty, then at what he could see of George. "Your family is a bit – _biased_ in the area of Touched."

"Even so, what sort of impression are _you_ making, just jumping down their throats like this?" Seamus countered gently. "They haven't done anything worthy of being locked up yet. Sure, Mr. Van Dort may have given us all a fright, but – well, the young lad he was aiming that smile at started things by winding him up."

"And what did we do, huh?" Zeke snapped. "When he dragged out that _animal_ of his?"

"Lightning did nothing to hurt you," Doc said, glaring.

"Yet. And–"

There was a flash of light off steel, and suddenly the Vorpal Blade was in Alice's hand. "Oh, do forgive me," she said, as Zeke and his fellows started. "It was getting a bit uncomfortable where I had it, and a woman in my condition has to be very careful, doesn't she?" She idly picked a nail with the tip, letting the edge shine. "You never know what might happen on a trip like this."

"No," Zeke mumbled, slumping back in his seat. "No, you don't."

Gillin stared in astonishment at the blade. "You let your _pregnant wife_ carry a knife?"

"You try taking it away from her," Victor said, doing his level best not to smile. "She's actually a professional monster killer back home."

"Currently on leave, of course," Alice said, finishing her nails and stowing the knife back in its sheath. "I hope nothing comes up that requires my skills."

"Nothing will," Gillin said firmly. He pulled out his pocket watch. "Ah – I need to drop by the Marshall's office in a few minutes. The deputy wants a word with me about the upcoming festival." He looked up as he tucked the watch away again. "I leave this lot in your hands, Seamus. Make sure they don't do anything – odd."

 _THUMP!_ "Ow!"

George pulled his foot into his lap, rubbing it as he winced. "I'll, ah, do my best," Seamus said, smiling awkwardly.

Gillin rolled his eyes, then leveled one last glare at the group. "All right – so far, you have my tolerance. Just keep your heads down. That's all I ask."

"We can do that," Victor assured him.

"Though it may involve a fair amount of hunching," Richard added, demonstrating.

"Whatever it takes." He turned back toward the doors, shaking his head. "Must be mad myself to allow this lot to stay. . .good day, everyone."

"Good day, Hubert," Seamus said, seeing him off with an unnecessary wave. "Don't worry about a thing! They're in good hands with me!"

Gillin shot a look over his shoulder that indicated he did not really believe that, but only nodded before heading back outside. Victor waited until the top hat had disappeared past the last window before letting out the biggest sight of relief he'd ever exhaled. "Oh dear. . .George, thank you _so much_ for covering!"

"It's fine – though that one actually _was_ me," George confessed, still rubbing his foot. "Caught the table leg at just the wrong angle too, ow. . . ."

"Sorry, Dad," Marty said, patting his shoulder. "And sorry to the rest of you guys too. I knew he was a little ticked about me asking all of you to come, but. . . ."

"It's fine – hardly the worst treatment any of us have endured," Christopher assured him. "He could have been a bit more civil about it, of course. . .and maybe a bit more observant, given his oblique threats ended up including a pregnant woman."

"At least he backed down when he saw my condition – and he's letting us stay at the moment, no matter how unhappy he is about it," Alice said with a sigh. "Give him that he's giving us a chance."

"Right. . .at least we shouldn't have to see him again before you guys head back." Marty looked around the saloon, at the glowering gazes of the old-timers and the frown of the bartender. "Why don't we just get out of here? We probably should get going now anyway if we're gonna get back to the McFly farm in time for supper."

"That's right," Maggie said, rising from her seat with all the dignity of a queen. "We've already arranged a few buckboard rentals with Mr. Statler. I don't know his opinion on Touched, but I do know he never says no to money."

"Good," Victor replied, stooping to collect his Grasshopper Teapot from its hiding place. It hopped into his arms and folded up against him, clearly done with the upsetting events of the day. "I think I could use a ride out in the fresh air myself." He glanced at Marty. "I'm – I'm sorry to be such a bother already, making everyone l-lie–"

"Not your fault – _I'm_ the one who told you to hide it," Marty cut him off. "And that's 'cause I knew the mayor would kick you out without another thought if he saw it. No sense in stirring up the hornet's nest, right? Especially when they're already buzzing mad." He clapped Victor on the back. "We'll get by. It's only a week. And hey – if nothing else, you managed to scare Gordon Tannen off! One less jerk to deal with!"

 _Yes – one less jerk who's seen just how cruel and horrible I can be when you upset me enough. . . ._ "True," Victor said, plastering on a smile for Marty's sake. "I do wonder where he ran off too, though."

"Hopefully into his own pile of manure," Alice said, looping her arm through his and tugging him toward the doors. "Try not to worry about him, okay? He's really not worth the trouble."

* * *

_I can't believe it! I cannot fucking_ believe _it!_

Gordon Tannen braced himself against the tiny scrub-like tree he'd found, shaking his head as he stared back at the – cripes, could you even _call_ it a town? Burtonsville was a tiny, miserable hole-in-the-wall to grow up in, but at least it had _roads_. Hill Valley was barely a handful of buildings set in the middle of the hottest pile of sand Gordon had ever come across. This _is where Ma said I was gonna make my fortune,_ he thought bitterly. _Where all my dreams were gonna come true. Sounded so simple when we first came up with it – go across the ocean, into America, join up with the Tannen family there, and get myself a nice healthy piece of their pie. We scrimped and scraped and squeezed for_ months _to get me here. And when I actually get to the stupid place, it's a half-baked pile of tinder with like three people in it! And one of them is_ Can Fucking Dort _!_

That was the bit that was giving him the most trouble, honestly. When Victor Van Dort had vanished from Burtonsville that fateful day, once he'd gotten over the terror of the local bobbies thinking that he'd somehow offed the beanpole, Gordon had actually been quite pleased at the idea of never setting eyes on him again. And once he'd heard that Van Dort had gotten himself spirited off to _Secundus_ – well. Everybody knew that you didn't come out of _that_ place in one piece. He'd just about jumped for goddamn joy when the Van Dorts had slunk back into town without their son, muttering about how they couldn't get him to come home. Freedom from the tyranny of fish at last! Sure, his Pa was still stuck kowtowing to the King of the Cannery, but at least now he never had to worry about ever doing the same with the Prince. His life was truly his to do as he liked! Including going halfway around the world to track down his – cousin, he was pretty sure – and start anew.

And running straight into Can Dort at the local watering hole, very much alive and doing better than Gordon had ever dreamed. _Married,_ he thought, pinching the bridge of his nose. _The bastard's actually_ married _. With a_ child _on the way. Some girl who_ wasn't _being forced into by her broke parents let Can Dort touch her like that. And, on top of that, he's_ one _of the loonies?! A scientist making more of his stupid butterflies?! It's just – it's all – if somebody chucked this in a dreadful, I'd march on down to the general store and demand my penny back! And then he turns that_ smile _on me and I – I just – Coward! I oughta march right back into that poor excuse for a pub and show him what's for!_ He squared his shoulders, tightened his jaw, took the first step –

And promptly saw again Can Dort's eyes practically glowing in their sockets, his mouth stretching just that little bit too wide for his face, growing closer and closer as he spoke in a voice that _jangled_ with an evil madness Gordon had only had nightmares about before. He slumped back against his tree, pulling out his handkerchief to dab at his forehead. _A Touched. A Madboy. Victor Van Dort. Never in a million years would I have. . .but you can't fake that shit. Did he pull that on his folks when they tried to take him back? Leer and snarl and come this close to ripping 'em to pieces? Wish he'd gone all the way. . .but yeah, no wonder they're going around pretending they never had a son these days. If it was_ our _family, if we couldn't get him strung up, we'd cut him out of every picture and black him out of every letter and tell anyone who asked, "Yeah, that's some_ other _Tannen, we don't know him."_ He wiped his face. _But – but he's still doing just fine. Even without the Van Dort fortune. Even without Victoria Everglot and her title. Even without his own goddamn fricking_ mind _. He's doing good – great even. Better than me. Why is it he's always_ better than me _?!_

That, right there, was the crux of the matter. The driving motivation of Gordon's entire existence. All his life, he and his had been forced to look up at the Van Dorts – watch them parade around Burtonsville in their furs and silks, their fancy carriage and their gigantic mansion. They'd ground it right into his face that they were _better_ than him. For no other reason than William knew a thing or two about fish. The sheer _arrogance_ coming off the whole family had rankled him like nothing else, burning in his veins like a terrible poison.

So he'd turned to the only revenge he'd had – terrorizing their son, the only member of the three he could reach. And he'd savored every moment, drawing them out as long as he possibly could. Every punch, every kick, every squeal of fear had been a brief and bitter victory – proof that, in some tiny way, _he_ was the one who was better. That _he_ held some microscopic bit of power over that family of posers who'd soared so high above their station. That, no matter what happened in the future, no matter how much bowing and scraping he might be forced into, he had Can Dort's terror.

And now? Now he was standing in the dirt again. Looking up at Can Dort. At his friends and his family and his utterly terrifying smile. Unable to even _consider_ punching his teeth down his neck because God _knew_ what would happen to him if he tried. He'd gone to Secundus, made his fortune (so to speak), and ripped away the one advantage Gordon had ever had over him. And there was absolutely _nothing_ Gordon could do about it.

"Lookie here, boys! Got ourselves a live one!"

Especially now that he had the point of a knife in his ribs. Gordon sucked in his breath, standing as still as possible. _Never rains but it pours, right, Ma?_

Two men draped in filthy, bedraggled coats and equally-beat-up ten-gallon hats, strolled around either side of him, smirking at their prey. The third remained at Gordon's back, peering over his shoulder and keeping the knife a solid presence in his life. "Don't he clean up nice," he commented, the brim of his rather flatter hat bumping against the side of Gordon's head. "Sharp as a tack! Ain't from round here, are ya, boy?"

"No, I'm not," Gordon confirmed, keeping his tone as even as possible.

"Oooooh, listen to that fancy-ass accent," one of the men in front of him, sporting a dusting of blond stubble declared. "You a limey?"

Gordon blinked. "Um – yes?" he said hesitantly, since it seemed the safest option.

"Woweeeee!" The stubbly one looked him over, apparently genuinely impressed. "Buford's gonna want a look at you!" He turned and cupped his hands around his mouth. "HEY, BUFORD! COME LOOK WHAT WE CAUGHT!"

Gordon blinked again, his mind racing to catch up with what had just passed through his ears. "Buford?" he echoed. _No way – they couldn't possibly –_ "Buford _Tannen_?"

The two men in front of him stared in surprise. "Huh – _you_ heard about Buford?" the tallest of the group asked, scratching his head.

"'Course he's heard of me," a rough voice said from behind him. Its owner shoved his way through the pair, making them stumble. "I make sure everybody 'round here knows my name."

"He ain't _from_ 'round here, Buford," the stubbly one explained, holding up a hand as he caught his balance. "He's from across the big pond!"

Buford's brow furrowed. "Gale Lake?"

"He's a limey," the knife-wielder said, shaking his head. He gave Gordon a poke – not enough to break skin, but enough to sting. "Go on, limey, talk for 'im."

Gordon, however, couldn't find any words. The man before him – he was easily the filthiest of the bunch, face absolutely caked with muck and grime. A thick brown mustache and beard stuck out of the dirt, ragged and dripping with drool. The top half of his face was almost entirely hidden beneath his black hat, but Gordon could see two mean pale blue eyes peeking out from under the brim. Eyes that looked distressingly like his father's – and his own. "You're – you're Buford Tannen?" he finally managed, with the encouragement of another poke.

"Damn straight," Buford replied, sounding quite proud of this fact. He scratched his face, sending a cascade of mysterious flakes fluttering to the desert sands. "What they call _you_ , limey?"

Gordon swallowed. This was _not_ how he'd imagined introductions going. _Easy, easy. . .it might get better once you say your name. I dunno_ how _, but – it might_. "Gordon. Gordon Tannen."

The gang members all looked at each other, startled. "What – Tannen?" the tall one repeated, baffled. "You sure?"

"My family's not stupid enough not to know their own name," Gordon snapped back, unable to stop the sarcasm. "Yes, Tannen, just like him. Ma found him on our family tree. He's a cousin." He eyed Buford. "Least, we think he's a cousin."

Buford tilted his head, regarding Gordon with deep suspicious confusion. "I ain't got no cousins. I just got my boy, and he lives with his ma over in San Francisco."

"Look, I'm having a hard time believing it myself right now," Gordon informed him. "But Ma was pretty certain."

"Huh. . ." The stubbly one leaned in, peering at Buford and Gordon each in turn. "You know, I gotta say, Buford – he _does_ look a bit like you," he reported. "Got those same eyes."

Buford snorted. "I don't see it. Besides, I ain't claimin' kin with anybody who sounds like _that_. Almost as bad as an Injun."

"I'm not keen on it either. Just answer me this – please," Gordon added quickly, eyes flicking down to the knife still pressed against his ribs. "Was your father Beauregard Tannen? The guy who's _supposed_ to own the saloon in town? When I went in, the fellow at the bar said he owned it, and his name was Chester."

Buford laughed, his gang joining in after a moment's pause. "Yeah, my pa was Beauregard," confirmed. "And he built that Palace Saloon. Then he sold it to Chester's pa and spent the rest of his days on his ass drinkin' whiskey. Didn't leave me – or you – a dime."

"You're gonna, though," the knife-wielder told Gordon, giving him another little poke.

"I get it," Gordon muttered, reaching slowly for his wallet. _So_ this _is the famed Tannen family business. No land to own, no booze to sell – just straight up mugging. Great. Excuse my language, Ma, but it's shittin' down now._ "Don't suppose I get a family discount?"

The gang chuckled. "Sure – pay up now and we won't knock ya over the head and leave ya for the rattlesnakes," Buford told him.

"Fine." Gordon sighed, fishing out what was left of his money after his trip and the change over. "First Can Dort, now this. Why the hell did I ever leave Burtonsville?"

"Well – if you hadn't, you would have never met me."

Gordon jumped, then hissed in pain as the knife slipped through his clothes and dragged along his ribs. Fortunately, the pain was brief, as his captor quickly released him in favor of whipping out a gun and pointing it in the direction of the new voice. "Who's there?"

"We ain't afraid to shoot!" the tall one added, his weapon at the ready.

"That one had an accent too!" the stubbly one declared. "We got limeys comin' out of the woodwork today!"

Buford smacked him upside the head. "Idiot – you see any wood 'round here?" He drew his own gun, scanning the horizon. "Hey – you got somethin' to say to us, you say it to our faces!"

"My apologies," the voice replied. Gordon looked around and managed to trace it to behind a nearby hunk of orange rock. "I didn't mean to offend. It's just that most people don't like to look upon my visage – and given my current condition, I don't blame them."

"Your. . . ." Buford looked at the stubbly one, who shrugged. "You!" he barked at Gordon, who had just started to ease away. "You speak limey – what's 'vee-sahg' mean?"

"I – I _think_ face?" Gordon said, gaze wavering from Buford's glare, to the gun, to the rock. "Look, the only schoolin' I got was from Pastor Galswells, and he was more keen on you fearing God than knowing what two plus two is."

"Four," the short one spoke up, getting a few nods of approval from his buddies.

"Correct on both counts," the voice informed them. "Congratulations, you're not total idiots." The speaker sighed softly. "Oh, to think there was a time when I courted the favor of queens. . .but then again, that's how I _got_ to this state," he added in a grumble.

Buford cocked his gun, moving a step toward the rock. "I don't give a shit who you been courtin' – I wanna know who you are. So, you comin' out from behind that rock, or do I gotta make ya?"

Another sigh. "Well, if you insist," the voice said. "Just don't say I didn't warn you. Or be too surprised when that gun doesn't do as much good against me as you might think." A shadow appeared around the rock, followed by the figure itself. "Hello, good sirs. What do you think?"

If Gordon _hadn't_ already been brought face-to-face with Can Dort and his ridiculous entourage, including that mostly-mechanical person-shaped _thing_ with the green skin and the huge hat, he would have run screaming. As it was, he went still, gaping as his blood went chill in his veins. The creature before him looked _almost_ exactly like a man. He was reasonably tall, with a strong barrel chest balanced atop spindly legs. His clothes were ragged around the edges, but clean, and had clearly been tailor-made. His face was aristocratic, with a chin almost as wide as his chest, a long sloped nose, and white hair carefully styled into a set of slicked-back points. Under any other circumstances, Gordon would have guessed him to be a nobleman down on his luck, just like the Everglots.

But then, under any other circumstances, the man before him wouldn't have been a uniform deep blue from forehead to ankles. Gordon backed up a couple of steps, opening and closing his mouth like a Van Dort fish right before it got the chop. _What – how – why – who the hell's been making_ these _in the middle of the damn desert?! Oh cripes, is Hill Valley also full of fucking madboys?! Explain why they let someone like Can Dort in!_

Buford and his lot, at least, seemed as surprised as him, gawking at the newcomer with wide eyes. "What the – what's a man gotta do in life to turn hisself _blue_?" the tall one asked, scratching under his hat with the barrel of his gun.

"Nothing," the newcomer replied, examining his nails as if all this bored him. "It's what he has to do in _death_."

"Wha?"

"He's – he's a Reanimated," Gordon blurted. "You know – somebody brought back after he kicked the bucket?"

Fortunately for everyone, Buford seemed to be familiar with _that_ metaphor. "Goddamn – you one of Brown's creations, corpse?" he demanded, aiming his gun right between the Reanimated's eyes. "What's he doin', yankin' the dead right out of the ground?"

"I have no idea what he might be doing with any corpse that isn't me," the Reanimated replied, holding up his hands. "I'm only his in the indirect sense. That is, he's responsible for my death."

"He get you with that Terminator of his?" the stubbly one asked. "I _heard_ he's used it on real live people, not just flour sacks."

"No, no – he simply allowed me to be slaughtered by a monster to save his own skin." The Reanimated's face went dark as he rubbed his chest. "That scythe should have gone through _his_ lungs, not mine. . .bloody Executioner, taking everything too literally. . . ." He sucked in a deep breath, then arranged his features into a decent approximation of calm. "That's what brings me to you gentlemen today. I'm seeking revenge, and I'd like your help."

"Help? A _Reanimated?_ " Gordon stuck out his tongue with a scoff. "No thanks."

"I ain't keen on it meself," Buford agreed, squinting at the man. "Except. . .you got somethin' against that rotten blacksmith?"

"And his little assistant," the Reanimated confirmed with a nod. "And their guests." He glanced at Gordon, who was trying to find a good opportunity to quietly edge away. "Including, as you so aptly put it before, Can Dort."

Gordon stopped, blinking. "What – you know _him_ too?"

"We met in Secundus," the Reanimated said, examining his fingernails (what was left of them, anyway). "And he too is largely to blame for my demise."

Gordon's first instinct was to call bullshit – then that _smile_ loomed large in his memory again, _sharp_ and _mad_ and _wrong_. "What – what did he do?" he asked softly, keenly aware he wasn't going to like the answer.

"Accused me of grave crimes against that Reanimated friend of his, just so I wouldn't have any chance of winning the hand of the lady he'd so cruelly tossed over, and that I had braved that wretched city for," the Reanimated told him, laying a dramatic hand against his chest. "I found succor and salvation for a time with a woman named Susie, who hid me from the horrors that were the local police. . .but then Van Dort managed to catch her eye, and she became so enamored with him that she tossed me aside without a second thought! Yes, I know, I don't pretend to understand it either," he added at Gordon's dubious look. "Not much of a catch, is he? But she was so intent on making him hers that – well, she kidnapped him. Causing those lunatics he calls friends to mount a rescue mission. And it was during that mission, when I was just trying to defend myself against Sir Lloyd's blade and that Dodgson's – _everything_ , when a creature called the Executioner found us. And Brown, seeing his chance–" he slashed his fingers down, from collarbone to hip "–shoved me right into its blade."

Everyone winced. "Damn," the stubbly one said. "I knew he wasn't right in the head, but. . .damn."

"Mmmmm – if it wasn't for some misguided resurrectionist deciding I just _had_ to see mortal justice for my supposed crimes and shocking me back to life, that would have been it for me," the Reanimated nodded.

"Maybe _that's_ why he screwed up that shoeing job, Buford!" the short one cried, hopping in place. "Maybe he wanted _you_ to die too!"

"Wouldn't be surprised," Buford growled. "Knew any man with so many fancy-ass letters after his name ain't to be trusted."

"What happened with your horse?" Gordon asked, trying to keep up.

"Brought him round to Brown's for a shoein' about a month ago," Buford obliged him. "Then, last week, while we were after a stage, he lost a shoe and throwed me off! Hurt my back and busted up a perfectly good bottle of Kentucky Red Eye!"

"And then Buford shot the horse," the tall one added.

"Wouldn't stop kickin', would it? Don't take no guff from man _or_ beast," Buford declared, puffing out his chest. "So now that no-good cheatin' blacksmith owes me 80 dollars. Was planning on takin' it out of his hide."

"Yeah, you might have some trouble with that," Gordon said, grimacing. "Can Dort didn't come alone. There was also this tall guy with a giant hat and _green skin_. And another Reanimated like him, only a girl. She the one Can Dort said you – did something to?"

"Emily Cartwell, yes," the Reanimated nodded. "And the green-skinned fellow is Richard Dodgson, a mechanical monstrosity who for some reason is allowed to run a hat shop. Might I ask if Sir Lloyd was with them? An older man, looks rather like Brown except for shorter hair and a mustache?"

"Yeah – he was with Victoria Everglot," Gordon said. "Still can't believe her family let her marry a known Touched, even _if_ the Queen does like him for some reason."

"The Everglots, I'm afraid, were much more interested in coin than breeding – the whole reason they were willing to entertain a match with Van Dort in the first place." The Reanimated slicked back his hair. "I regret to inform you gentleman that every last man in that party, save Martin McFly, happens to be a Touched. And their wives aren't much better company."

"Shit – we got ourselves a _plague_ of Madboys?!" Buford spat, flecks of drool splattering against his shoes. "I ain't havin' it! I'll go in and mow 'em all down!"

"I should mention that Dodgson has weapons built into his very body," the Reanimated said, wrinkling his nose at the wet dangling from Buford's beard. "Which is metal, so you'd have a very hard time just shooting him."

"Oh yeah?" Buford eyed him, thumb hovering over his gun's trigger. "You got any better ideas, walking dead?"

"I've had time to ponder a few," the Reanimated purred. "If you'll give me a chance." His gaze moved to Gordon. "I beg you to reconsider your prejudices as well. I know my appearance is – unpleasant, but it seems to me we have a similar goal. Stopping 'Can Dort' from enjoying his happy ending."

Gordon shifted from foot to foot, weighing up his options. On the one hand – he was being asked to work together with a _Reanimated_. One of those _monsters_ the Madboys made. Maybe he wasn't quite as bad as a Touched, but he was damn close. Who knew what he was truly capable of? Maybe he was luring them into a trap for his insane master. Or maybe he hoped to carve them up into fresh parts to augment his own failing body. Or maybe he just wanted them to do the dirty work of taking care of Brown and Can Dort and the others, and then he'd vanish into the night and leave them to take the heat. Honestly, the most sensible thing he could do here would be to turn tail and run (preferably _before_ Buford and the others remembered they were in the middle of a robbery).

On the other hand. . .there was Can Dort. Can Dort, who'd always hid from him and his friends, talking and chatting with those other lunatics like it was second nature. Can Dort, who'd always fumbled and fallen over himself just _looking_ at girls, happily married with a child on the way. Can Dort, who'd been kicked off the cannery throne, managing to come up roses in the Mad Science Capital of the World.

Can Dort, who'd always cowered under his fist, looming over him and smiling with too many teeth and a terrible light behind his eyes.

Gordon stood up straight, gritting his teeth. "I'll listen," he decided. "But I won't promise any more than that."

"Fair enough," the Reanimated said. "Delighted to make your acquaintance, Mr. . . . ?"

"Tannen. Gordon Tannen."

"Buford Tannen," Buford introduced himself, finally lowering his gun. "Limey here claims we're kin, but I don't see it. And this here's Buck–" the short one waved "–Ceegar–" the tall one nodded "–and Stubble." Sure enough, the stubbly one touched his hat. "What's _your_ name, dude?"

The Reanimated bowed and gave them all a cruel smile. "Bittern. _Lord_ Barkis Bittern."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \-->Of the list of pubs at the beginning of the fic, "The Mangled Mermaid" and "The Flaming Stallion" are both from _Alice: Madness Returns_ , while "The Elephant's Elbow" was mentioned in The Forgotten Vows Verse (Jack Splatter drops the name in the second chapter of "Triskaidekaphobia").
> 
> \-->Artie and Sylvia McFly are from the Telltale BTTF game -- here rewritten to be George's twin brother and sister-in-law rather than his father and mother! The "Kid" they mention is also from said game -- he's the antagonist Tannen in them (and Biff's father).


	4. Toilet Humor And Bad Dreams

September 1st, 1882

Hill Valley, California

5:58 P.M.

"So – has anyone ever told you that the McFly farm is more of a town than Hill Valley itself?"

Marty snorted as the wagon bounced through the gate. "Oh, come on, guys. There's only two houses here."

"And a barn," Richard said, pointing out the large red building off to the side. "And considering how worn this path is, it's more of a road than Hill Valley's supposed 'main street.'" His finger dipped downward. "Look, you've even got horse manure!"

"Indeed," Alice said, wrinkling her nose as they passed the pile. "We might as well not left the town vague rectangle."

"Hey, trust me, you have to watch your step a _lot_ less here," Marty promised, crossing his heart. "Grampa and Uncle William get the stuff around here cleaned up loads faster."

"No point in letting it go to waste out there in the sun," William agreed from the driver's seat. "I don't know how it is in the big city, but out here, you use everything you've got at least twice before you even _think_ of getting rid of it."

"Even food?" Richard inquired. "Rather hard to use that again once you've chewed and swallowed."

William shot him a quick smirk. "Comes back out again, don't it? Maybe not in the same shape, but. . . ."

"You _don't_ ," Victoria said, covering her mouth to hide a horrified laugh.

"He's teasing," Marty assured her, snickering. "Though, uh, while we're on the subject – we did our best, I promise, but outhouses _always_ stink. You might want to either hold your breath or leave the door open a crack the first few times you use one."

"Never fear, Marty – I've had to make do in much worse conditions," Christopher declared. "Any career soldier – especially one in my particular line – quickly learns how to cope when facilities are, shall we say, less than ideal."

"And actually, I grew up with outdoor, um, facilities myself," Victoria added, playing with her fingers in her lap. "Mother and Father desperately _wanted_ to move it all indoors, but we never had the money." She glanced at Victor. "In fact, given the plumbing situation in Burtonsville, I'm pretty sure _your_ family was the only one with an indoor loo in the whole village."

"Yes – stuffed in an out-of-the-way corner so we'd never have to deal with the smell," Victor said, making a face as he recalled many instances of attempting to flush away his business, only for the water to just burble back at him. "William employed a personal night-soil man whose only task was to keep it running just well enough for Nell to brag about it. The facilities in Secundus were a delight after that – another good reason to stay for me."

"Yeah," Marty murmured nostalgically. "Took me and Doc a while to readjust once we came back here."

"I'm sure we'll all manage for a week," Alice said, petting Lightning as they pulled up in front of the larger of the two houses. "Personally, I'm just glad I'm able to keep food down again. This visit would have been a lot harder on all of us if anything that wasn't toast or maybe bland porridge sent me running to the outhouse."

"Ooh, I remember that with Marty," Lorraine said, wincing in sympathy. "It was a truly wretched time. . .we'll do our best to keep you comfortable." She took a curious look at Alice's belly. "Not too long before the baby arrives, is it?"

"I'm not going to pop during the wedding, if that's what you're worried about," Alice told her. "Still a couple of months to go."

"Dr. Lawn's best estimate is early November," Victor confirmed. "We wouldn't be here if it was any closer."

"Right. . . ." Lorraine sighed wistfully. "Oh, it seems like only yesterday Dave, Linda, and Marty were all babies. . . ."

"Oh, come on, Mom," Linda complained, rolling her eyes. "Don't get all _mushy_ on us."

"Hey, your brother's getting married in a week," Sylvia said, poking her shoulder. "Ain't a better time for a gal to get mushy! Artie and I are hopin' to add to our family soon," she added to Alice. "Now that we've saved up some from his accountin' business."

"I wish you all the best of luck," Alice said with a quick nod. "Victor and I sort of stumbled into this – not actively opposed, but not actively trying either. At least we've had nine months to sort ourselves out beforehand!"

"If it's not too forward, what about the rest of you?" Artie asked, looking at Richard and Emily and Victoria and Christopher in turn. "Any plans for kids?"

"We've taken the 'if it happens, it happens,' attitude," Christopher said. "Victoria and I would love a child, but we know you can't force these things." He paused, then qualified, "Well, all right, you _can_ , but – such biological experiments usually don't go well."

"See any of Helen Narbon's forays into gerbil breeding," Richard agreed. "And Emily and I are thinking of adopting at some point. Considered whipping up some paperwork for March and Dormy, just for laughs, but my mother's laid claim to the former as an honorary son ever since she first tasted his cooking, so – it would have been weird."

"March and Dormy?" William echoed, getting down from his seat.

"The March Hare and the Dormouse," Emily clarified. "They're Fabricated animals who are friends of ours."

"Some of my oldest friends in Secundus!" Richard declared, grinning. "We have tea parties at least once a week." He sighed. "Shame they couldn't come, really – March could have made you a _divine_ wedding cake."

"I think our favorite mayor would have declared hunting season open if I'd brought along talking hares and dormice," Marty said, wincing. "I mean, we saw how eager he was to have _you_ all in town."

"Very distinctly," Victor agreed, stroking the head of his Grasshopper Teapot. It whistled softly, apparently content in the open air. "I dread to think what might have happened if he'd spotted this."

"Yeah, we lucked out in keeping it hidden – and making those jerks at the next table keep their mouth shut," Marty nodded, wiping his forehead. "Hopefully you've scared them into staying silent about what they saw, Alice!"

"If not, I don't have any objections to visiting the saloon again to remind them what happens if they cross me," Alice said, touching her Vorpal Blade's handle. "Or, at least, what they _think_ will happen."

"Don't stress yourself out too much over it," Victor said.

Alice raised an eyebrow at him. "I love you, Victor, but – that's rich, coming from you."

Victor shrugged. "Who would know better?"

"Let's hope we don't have to resort to any more scarin' of old men – even if they _are_ busybodies," Seamus allowed. "As it stands, you can put your little friend there in the barn, Mr. Van Dort. The pigs shouldn't mind the company. They didn't complain when we put Dr. Brown's train in there, after all."

"Wait – what?" Victor blinked. "Doc's train is _in your barn_?"

"Gillin pitched a _fit_ when Doc landed it outside the blacksmith shop," Marty explained. "I mean, we were kind of expecting it, but. . .he said it was an eyesore and that he wouldn't have it anywhere near the town square. The people at the train station wouldn't keep it for him, so Grampa volunteered the barn."

"Didn't want the poor fellow to scrap his life's work!" Seamus said. "Takes up a fair bit of room, aye, but we can still feed the animals and keep our tools in there, so we're not too fussed."

"And it isn't like Dr. Brown hasn't done us good turns before," Maggie added, with a small smile. "He's shoed our horses for years – and fixed the tractor. Goes twice as far on a fuelin' now than it ever did before."

"He's very good at that sort of thing," Christopher said. "I'm looking forward to getting a proper look at his blacksmith shop tomorrow!"

"Eh – telling you right now, it's not as exciting as the Secundus shop was," Marty warned him, sliding out of the back of the wagon with his siblings. "Unless you _like_ watching a guy pound a piece of metal into the shape of a horse's hoof with a big old hammer."

"I imagine there's _some_ entertainment value there," Alice said, smirking. "At least enough for a day's visit."

Lightning barked an agreement, then put his paws on the side of the wagon, poking his head over the lip. "Ah-ah – we'll let you out in a moment, boy," Victor promised, scratching him behind the ears. "I know all that room to run around and play is _very_ tempting, but you have to be a good dog." He sighed. "Ferdy would have loved it here, I'm sure. . .do you think he's getting on all right with Flint?"

"Just fine, I'm sure," Alice told him, patting his hand.

"Yeah, Flint can be a little out there, but he generally knows what he's doing," Marty added, offering a hand to his aunt as she and Artie climbed out.

"Thanks, kiddo – Flint the one with the weird food machine?" Sylvia asked, dropping to the ground with a little puff of dirt.

"That's him – his restaurant was actually the one we had our first date in," Alice said, giving Victor a nostalgic smile. "And he helped a lot with the whole business with the Queen. We've been friendly ever since."

"Nice! Wish I could just push a button and have dinner fall out of the sky sometimes," Sylvia laughed, before nudging her sister-in-law. "Bet you do too right now, don't you, Lorraine? Lot of people to feed and keep comfortable."

"Mmm – I'm shocked we all fit in the wagon, honestly," Artie admitted, rubbing the back of his head under his hat. "Are you _sure_ you want us here? Sylvia and I could stay in the Palace, no problem."

"No, no – we'll find the room," Lorraine insisted, shaking her head. "We've already converted the basement to fit six."

"Plus we have our spare bedroom," William added, coming around the side of the wagon. "Trust me, we've come a long way from the three-room house of our childhood."

"I hope so – it was pretty dang cramped, growing up," Artie confirmed, smiling. "Why do you all think I ran straight across the country the first chance I got?"

"Because you're much better at making numbers add up than mucking out a pig stall?"

Sylvia snorted as Artie went pink. "Well, that too – great to see you again, Caro!"

"You too!" A brunette woman in a simple blue dress and heavy boots hurried up along the "road" to greet Sylvia with a hug. "It's been far too long – how are things over on the East Coast?"

"Aw, just swell – brought you a new dress from Carter's!" Sylvia told her, bouncing lightly on her heels. "Too fancy for swannin' round the farm, yeah, but it'll be great for that festival comin' up!"

"You really do spoil me, Syl." Caro giggled, before turning to the others and offering her hand to whoever was nearest. "Oh, excuse me – Caroline McFly, William's wife. I'm sorry I couldn't come and greet you in town, but someone had to stay behind and keep an eye on the hired hands."

"Quite all right," Victoria said, leaning down to shake hands. "I'm Victoria Lloyd, and this is my husband, Sir Christopher. This is Richard and Emily Dodgson–" Richard tipped his hat while Emily waved "–and Victor and Alice Van Dort."

"Oh, pleasure to meet you – dear me!" Caroline stood straight, expression scandalized. "Marty, you didn't tell me one of your guests was in the family way! And having to come all this way in this bumpy old wagon. . .here, Mrs. Van Dort, let me get you inside," she said, climbing up and reaching for Alice's arm. "I've got a nice seat by the fire waiting, and I can heat up some milk–"

"I'm _fine_ ," Alice said, scooting away from the hand with a scowl. Lightning yipped as she pulled him down. "Sorry boy. . .look, I'll admit to being perhaps a _little_ jolted from the trip, but I'm hardly about to keel over."

"Careful – she doesn't like getting any special treatment just because she's pregnant," Richard warned, wagging a finger. "She works at my shop back in Secundus, and I practically had to _threaten_ her into taking leave! I suspect she was ready to have the baby at the counter and damn the consequences!"

"I wasn't _that_ intent on staying," Alice protested, laughing. "I just – hate people making a fuss over me when there's no real reason. I'm still trying to train Victor out of panicking over my every little move."

"I do not," Victor said, shooting her a look. "And don't you bring up the armchair again!"

"Why not? Practically burying me in pillows when I was barely showing is a perfect illustration of what I mean."

"I'm sorry, Alice – it's just what husbands _do_ ," Lorraine told her, patting George on the shoulder. "You should have seen _him_ back when I was carrying Dave. Every other sentence out of his mouth was 'are you sure you shouldn't sit down?' and 'here, let me get that for you.'" She shook her head with old, fond exasperation. "Fortunately, he realized I wasn't helpless by the time Marty came along."

"It's a husband's job to worry," George declared, folding his arms.

"Aye, Seamus agreed. "Having a child is no small thing, you know. I know my Maggie's sturdy as a draft horse, and I love her for it, but I liked her off her feet when she was with William – and _especially_ the twins." He sighed, low and sad. "Didn't help that, not long before she had Arthur and George, we lost poor Mrs. Canton and both her girls. Hard not to dwell on the what-might-bes when you have to help dig some very small graves."

A cold finger of horror traced its way down Victor's spine, bringing with it the memory of Alice, bruised and battered and barely managing to stay on her feet, facing down a tentacle poised to split her in two. He shuddered, gritting his teeth against that particular what-might-have-been. "I'm – I'm sorry. That m-must have been a-awful."

"Seamus! What a thing to bring up when she's so close to delivering," Maggie scolded, scowling. "Don't listen to him, Mr. Van Dort. Sure'n your wife and your babe will be just fine when the time comes."

"We will," Alice agreed, taking Victor's hand and squeezing it. "And if it makes you feel better, I'll go sit by the fire. Though I shall still decline the hot milk, if you don't mind."

"That's fine," Caroline assured her. "I could put the kettle on and make some tea instead?"

"Now _that_ sounds like an idea!" Richard declared, bounding down from the wagon. "I could offer my services in this endeavor! Few people know tea like I do!"

"Well, I – oh – I wouldn't mind," Caroline said, tipping her head back in an attempt to meet his eyes. "Though, ah, you'll – you'll probably have to – um – duck to get into my kitchen."

"I'm used to that too." Richard tipped his hat. "And may I say, thank you for managing to avoid screaming, 'help me, there's a freak on my doorstep.'"

To Victor's relief, Caroline laughed. "I'm sorry – Marty _did_ explain about how some of you are rather unique. It's just different, seeing in person. I wasn't expecting so _tall_!" Her gaze traveled over to Emily. "Or so. . .so. . .there isn't a polite way to put it, is there?"

"So long as you don't act like we deserve to be in the circus, we're fine," Emily assured her.

"Don't worry about it – even Victor stared at first," Richard added with a nod, reaching over to give Victor's hair a quick ruffle. "If it helps, my darling Emily and I promise not to make any more of a mess of your house than is inevitable from having guests."

"Direct that promise thataway," Marty said, pointing at his parents. "It's _our_ basement you're sleeping in."

"We've made it as cozy as possible," George told them. "Beds, blankets, a couple of wash basins, some screens for privacy. . .it's not a first-class hotel, but given I imagine you'll only be down there to sleep and get dressed, it should do."

"It's very kind of you," Victoria said, before giggling. "Oh dear – even from a continent away, I can somehow still feel my mother being scandalized by the idea of men and women sharing sleeping quarters."

"I think Lady Everglot would have been scandalized by a lot of other things much sooner than this," Alice pointed out. "Just the idea of a town where men are allowed to bathe in public would have sent her into fits."

"Eugh – I was trying to forget about that," Victoria grumbled, scrunching up her nose.

"Like I said, nobody here's gonna force you guys to use the place," Marty promised her. "We've got a couple of private tubs here. Doc even rigged up a sort of giant hot plate for 'em so you can warm up the water inside faster and keep it warm for a whole bath."

"And the mayor didn't immediately materialize and start yelling?" Alice joked.

"This was _before_ we got kicked out – and I don't think he cares too much what happens on the McFly farm, given how far we are out from the town square," Marty added. "And besides, even if he _did_ have a problem with it now, he's still keen on staying on decent terms with the rest of the family."

"Aye," Seamus agreed, with a stern nod that looked better suited for his wife. "Me and my kin were here long before Gillin was voted in, and we'll be here long after he's voted out. Why, when Maggie and I first arrived, it wasn't even a town – just a few farmers doing their best against the sand and the sun. Might have even stayed that way, if Lloyd Fox hadn't found silver down where the Delgado Mine is now."

"We only got the official paperwork to _become_ a town in 1865," George put in. "Marty was _born_ before Hill Valley was incorporated."

"Seriously? Hill Valley is younger than Marty?" Christopher chuckled as he got down. "Well, that explains a lot about the look of the place – it hasn't hit its growth spurt yet!"

"Neither has Marty," Linda cackled, smirking at her brother.

"Ha ha," Marty replied blandly. "Hey, Victor, I ever tell you that I envy you for being an only child?"

"You shouldn't," Victor informed him. "Imagine having to grow up with _Nell Van Dort_ all alone."

"Ooooh." Marty made a face. "Yeaaaah, good point."

"We can discuss this all further inside," Caroline said, shaking her head. "We need to get everyone settled in before dinner."

"That's right," William said, crossing around and grabbing a couple bags while Christopher and Richard helped their wives down. "Mr. Van Dort, why don't you put your, er, _friend_ there in the barn while we get your wife inside?"

"Sounds good," Victor said, scooting to the edge of the wagon with the Grasshopper Teapot cradled tightly against his chest. "And if you could, put Lightning on a lead and let him have a bit of exercise? Poor pup's been cooped up and carried for far too long, I'm sure. . . ." He glanced over at his eagerly-panting corgi. "Just make sure it's strong – he's probably going to try and run straight back to Secundus."

"We'll keep an eye on him," Marty promised. "And Alice too. See you in a minute."

"See you." Victor slid off the back of the wagon, offered his shoulder to Alice as she disembarked, then proceeded to the barn as everyone else began gathering luggage.

The barn proved to be an imposing building, with dark, solid walls, a ceiling made of high rafters, and a distinctly piggy smell. Victor eased open the large door, only to be assaulted by a chorus of eager squeals, grunts, and snorts. "Sorry!" he called as he slipped inside, holding the suddenly-very-squirmy Grasshopper Teapot close. "I'm not a worker! I don't have any – goodness me, you're _huge_!"

The pig oinked at him, staring up with soulful eyes behind its little fence. "I had no idea pigs _got_ that big," Victor informed it, eyes running up and down its massive length. "I think you're almost as long as I am tall! How Seamus and William manage a whole family of you, I have no idea."

The pig grunted, then – realizing Victor wasn't going to feed it – wandered back to a muddy patch at the rear of the pen, flopping down with a heavy _spluch_. Around it, the other pigs milled around, nosing through the dirt from scraps and talking to each other in little grumbles and snuffles. Victor left them to it and turned around. Doc's train was lined up against the other wall, its vast bulk looming over him. Rather than looking majestic, though, it looked rather – sad, its black paint and bright trim washed out in the dim light. Victor pressed a hand against the cold iron. "You poor thing," he whispered. "Hiding out here when you were once the glory of Secundus's skies."

The Grasshopper Teapot twitched against his chest, clearly eager to get a move on and away from the pigs. Victor slid his hand around until he located the button for the door. The side promptly opened outward, top half stretching to the rafters while the steps unfolded from the bottom. Victor climbed them and took a look around. The interior was dark, but all the dials and levers that made up the front console were dusted, and the leather on the seats in good repair. "Not that I really thought Doc would let it go to rot," he murmured, setting the Grasshopper Teapot on a cushion. "I know this isn't ideal," he added to it, taking the tea brick they'd purchased before leaving town and setting it in front of it. The Grasshopper promptly ducked its spout-like head and got to nibbling, feelers bouncing. "You _should_ be out in the fields, living life to the fullest. But this is the safest spot for you. I can't risk you getting out – even if Mayor Gillin never found out, if you somehow managed to interbreed with the local populations, I don't think Seamus would ever forgive me for the increased nuisance. Not to mention, I don't trust those pigs not to take a chance on you." He glanced at the living pork chops, lazing away in their wallow. "Especially now that I know they don't stay small. . .so you'll have to stay in here for the time being. I'll get you plenty of tea bricks, I promise. Maybe I'll even get some hay and spread it across the floor. I don't think Doc will mind."

The Grasshopper ignored him, intent on making up lost eating time. Victor sighed, leaning against the wall. "It really is a shame that Doc has to hide this here. Hide all the best parts of himself. Just because Gillin can't ever forgive a mistake. Can't accept that Doc and Marty are sincerely sorry for what happened. Can't accept Touched in general." His hand tightened into a fist as he recalled the mayor's earlier words. "To treat us like _that_ when all we'd done is walk into his town. . .I should have given him a piece of my mind."

_Oh? Like you did with Gordon? Or those old-timers in the pub? Or the Queen?_

Victor blanched. Oh damn. . .he'd tried so hard to push that moment away after they left the Palace. . .but here it came again, racing back in all its self-righteous glory. Slamming open the doors to the throne room, heart full of nothing but icy rage as he looked upon the _bitch_ who was threatening _his_ Alice. . .telling her in no uncertain terms that she was going to die, pitiless in the face of her mockery, what did it matter, she was going to _pay_. . .twisting past the tentacle flying at him with lethal intent, pulling his trump card from his pocket and injecting her with it like he'd done it a thousand times before. . .watching as she screamed and writhed and succumbed to the horrors that were his little pets, numb to her pain, numb to everything but the chill triumph of ending the life of some _fool_ that had doubted him, had endangered what was his. . .and then turning on Flint and the others, his anger melting, flaring volcano-hot because how _dare_ they assume that he'd had to _find_ their salvation, how _dare_ they assume he wasn't _good_ enough to rescue them himself, _how dare they not recognize the genius before them –_

Victor yanked himself back with an effort, panting. "No," he whispered, running his fingers through his hair. "Alice – Alice stopped you. You didn't hurt them. And you d-didn't hurt anybody today either. You just f-frightened a couple of people. Gordon is fine. Jeb, Zeke, and Levi are all fine. The McFlys are all fine. You didn't – you didn't go too far."

Even with that knowledge, the words felt painfully hollow. Victor rubbed his face, then shook his head and stood up straight. "Worry about it later," he told himself firmly. "When no one's expecting you to help unload the luggage and look after your wife. You've got duties to fulfill." He exited the train, locked his Grasshopper Teapot inside, then schooled his features into a smile. "And besides," he added, heading for the door, "a cup of tea sounds bloody marvelous right now."

* * *

_The nursery was dark._

_This was, in and of itself, not particularly surprising to Victor. It was the middle of the night, after all. And while he and Alice had worked very hard on preparing the room for its future occupant – spending hours painting and sanding and moving furniture – neither of them had seen the need to light it constantly, at least not until said occupant arrived. It was money that was better spent on other things, like a plethora of bottles, or a dresser full of clothes, or a shelf stocked with helpful books, or –_

_A crib._

_Victor blinked as his eyes adjusted. There, right in the center of the room, sat a big white crib – exactly the same as the one he'd always pictured during all that painting and sanding and such. With strong wooden bars, and a soft little mattress, and a mobile dangling over it. A mobile made up of dozens and dozens of slowly-revolving butterflies. Glowing butterflies. Rainbow butterflies. Mechanical butterflies._

_Acid butterflies._

_Victor sucked in a breath as the sharp green creature swung past him. What – what was_ that _one doing there? Yes, he – he_ had _made such a thing, just to see if it could be done, but – to put it on his child's_ mobile _? That was ridiculous! All it would take was one swipe of the little one's hand, and they'd be seared, screaming their tiny lungs out over the pain!_

 _Unless he stopped them. Stopped them screaming, stopped them_ from _screaming, took out their lungs and replaced them with something more_ useful _, something less_ noisy _, how was he expected to do_ SCIENCE _when he couldn't even hear himself_ think _–_

 _No. No, he wouldn't. He wouldn't dare to. That was his_ child _in there! His child, not a – a – a convenient test subject, helpless and squirming, you could do_ anything _to them and they couldn't even complain. . .and he had so many ideas, so many wonderful and brilliant_ ideas _, ideas he couldn't just_ waste _on_ ordinary _creatures, no, only the best would do. . .and surely his lovely Alice would have given him only the best?_

 _His feet moved seemingly of their own accord, carrying him toward the crib. A passenger in his own body, helpless to do anything, helpless to stop himself. His hands gripped the side as a terrible smile spread across his face. Oh, he could do_ so much _with such_ good _raw material. . .bring to life all sorts of wonders and horrors, make the citizens of Hill Valley and Secundus and all the rest of the_ world _appreciate his genius. No more Gordon Tannens taunting him in front of his friends, mocking him and all he had achieved. . .no more Jebs and Zekes and Levis looking down on him with such disdain, making it clear they thought less of him than of the horse manure he'd stepped in. . .no more_ anyone _doubting his intellect, thinking his butterflies somehow made him lesser than other scientists. They'd see. They'd all see. And if they didn't – well. Perhaps they wouldn't be as versatile as a child, but they could still be molded. Stretched and squeezed and_ twisted _, bent into better shapes for his amusement. . .he'd show them, he'd show them_ all _. . .the ones who still laughed at him, the ones who still mocked him, the ones who_ pretended _to be his friends but who really still saw him as little more than an amusing curiosity. . .he'd show them! Let them underestimate him now! Let them gaze upon the fruits of his labor! Let them see what he was_ truly _capable of! He flung his arms wide, dissolving into high-pitched maniacal laughter as he looked down at the creature which had once been a human baby, but was now just a squirming, shrieking_ larva _–_

"GAH!"

Victor snapped bolt upright, breathing hard. For a moment, all he saw was darkness, and fear gripped his heart like a vise. Then his vision cleared, and he relaxed as he saw not pale yellow paint, but sturdy stone walls. No crib, but simple wooden screens, behind which Christopher and Victoria and Richard and Emily slept. And no baby, but his own beloved Alice, passed out solidly beside him on their mattress. Victor tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, quietly glad he hadn't woken her up with his gasp. It had been a busy day, and she needed her sleep.

Not to mention, he couldn't imagine telling her about what he'd just dreamed. He shivered as the crib and its malformed occupant loomed large in his mind's eye. "You wouldn't," he mumbled, shaking his head. "You _know_ you wouldn't."

 _Do you?_ a treacherous inner voice whispered back. _Really? When you still have days when you struggle against the abyss, clawing at your mind? When you still have to crawl to Alice to calm the whirlwind of thoughts destroying your skull? When you still react to someone calling you as dumb a name as 'Can Dort' with the full force of your madness? What would you have done to Gordon, if he hadn't run away? Ranted and raved about what you could make from his skin and blood, even without the proper tools? Grabbed something from the bar and forced it down his throat, exulting as he choked? Dragged him off to some private spot and started ripping and tearing? Would you have spared a thought for what Marty's family would have thought? Or your own?_

_I didn't do anything, though! Nothing happened, we're all fine –_

_The baby could kill Alice, you know. Even in a place as advanced as Secundus. You could lose her – your anchor, your rock. This child could take her away from you. What would you do then? What would you_ want _to do then?_

 _Nothing!_ Victor mentally cried, gripping the sides of his head as if he expected the horrible thoughts to come pouring out his ears. _Nothing, because – because they'd be all I had_ left _of Alice! I would_ never _raise a hand or a test tube to anything that shared her blood!_

 _Is that so? Didn't stop you when it was the Queen. You could see she shared Alice's face, but you slaughtered her without a second thought. You killed her because she'd personally_ insulted _you by hurting the woman you loved. And you_ know _how you did it._

Victor shook his head, squeezing harder, fingers digging into his scalp. _No. No, I d-don't –_

 _Yes you do. You remember the spiders, you remember_ exactly _how you made them. You just_ pretend _you don't. Put up a cute little facade of pretty butterflies and other buggies. But even that cracks sometimes, doesn't? Butterflies that sear flesh from bone, bees that inject poison with their sting – you've thought about them, experimented with them. Even if you never let any of them loose, they still exist. Just like those spiders. And one day – one day, something will happen, and it'll be too much. One day you'll_ snap _and you'll_ fall _and it'll all come rushing back and you'll turn against everyone and everything you've ever loved because **you know what you're capable of** – _

Victor flung himself off the bed, bracing himself against the cold stone of the floor. No no no, he would never, he would _never_ – but he could see the Queen's corpse before him, turned into hamburger from the inside out, those spiders still chewing and chewing their way over to his friends. . .and he'd tried to forget, tried to push it all back in favor of the beauty he knew his science could create. . .but then Alice had announced she was pregnant and suddenly it had become all he could think about. . .because his world was being turned upside-down again, and even if it was in a _good_ way, a way he _wanted_ , his awful, terrible brain always responded to change with panic and if he panicked now _**bad things** **could happen**_ –

Oh God, he couldn't be here right now. He couldn't be underground right now. The ceiling was pressing down on him like an Aperture-brand crusher, and the walls were closing in to squeeze him dry, and oh _God_ did he need the sky right this bloody _instant_! He scrambled across the floor practically on all fours, taking the stairs two at a time and flinging open the door at the top before bolting across the sitting room and out the back door.

The farm stretched out before him as he stumbled to a stop on the back steps, a vaguely-green oasis in the vast expanse of orangey sand that made up most of Hill Valley. Above him, more stars than he had ever seen before twinkled against a sky blacker than pitch. Victor stared up at them, willing his breathing to slow as he tried desperately to center himself. _It's okay. It's okay. It's okay. It's –_

"Victor?"

Victor just about leapt right out of his skin. He caught himself on the railing, then jerked his head around to see Marty standing behind him. "Sorry, sorry," Marty said, holding up his hands. "Didn't mean to scare you like that – you okay?"

"Y-yes," Victor panted, examining his palms. Slightly scraped, but it probably wouldn't even bother him in the morning. "W-what – what are you – doing up?"

"Good old call of nature," Marty said nodding his head in the direction of the lonely little outhouse nearby. He frowned at Victor. "I'm – guessin' that's not why _you're_ up, though."

Victor shook his head, rubbing the back of his neck. "I – I had a nightmare," he said vaguely, unwilling to meet his friend's eyes.

"Ah." Marty gave him a look that was nothing but sympathy. "Gordon draggin' up all the bad childhood memories?"

"N-no, this was. . . ." Victor struggled briefly with the words to describe the horror, then gave up. He wasn't the storyteller in the family. "Just – awful."

"Yeah, you look pretty shook," Marty confirmed, glancing up and down. He leaned against the door frame. "You, uh, wanna talk about it?"

Victor bit his lip, hesitating. Did he? Did he want his friend to know the kind of terrible things that lurked within his head? Did he want to risk Marty getting disgusted with him? Or, worse, _frightened_ of him? Did he want to deal with the possibility of one of his closest relationships collapsing?

On the other hand. . .his stomach was churning, his palms sweating, and he really, _really_ wanted something – some _one_ – to hold onto, even in the metaphorical sense. And with Alice currently dead to the world. . . . "Marty. . .do – do you think I'll b-be a good f-f-father?"

Marty blinked. "Huh? Yeah, of course I do! You're gonna be a great dad! I'm thrilled for you guys!"

"You're not – w-worried about me? At all?"

One eyebrow went up. "No. . .you seem to be doing enough worrying for everybody. What's wrong? I know you were kinda nervous when Alice first announced the big news, but – I figured you were excited too. You sounded like you were over the moon when you wrote me and Doc with the news."

"I was – I am," Victor assured him, waving his hands. "When Alice told me she was pregnant, I was – well, just completely s-stunned at first," he admitted with a faint, awkward laugh. "But then – I was ecstatic." Despite his anxieties, a smile spread across his face." Me, a father – I'd never dreamed that could happen. Never hoped. And now. . .I could hardly wait to meet our baby!" The smile faltered, then slipped. "But – but now. . .I keep remembering. . .c-certain things, and I. . . ." He brushed back his bangs, which flopped forward again mercilessly. "A-am I really up for the job? D-do I have w-what it takes? Am I – am I _s-stable_ enough to be a father?"

"Stable?" Marty repeated, puzzled.

"You saw me with Gordon today. He threw a few nasty words my way, and I just about s-snapped. And then I was just as ready to turn on those old-timers too, until I noticed how scared your relatives were." Victor knotted his hands together, gulping. "It took so little to turn me into a monster. . .what if – w-what if I turn that on the _baby_ , Marty?" he asked, voice cracking. "What if I – I get f-frustrated and _do_ something? What if I have a – a _l-little moment_ and I come back to myself with blood all over my hands–"

"Whoa, whoa." Marty took him by the arms, looking him straight in the eye. "Take it easy, Victor. Don't spin out. Breathe."

"I can't help it!" Victor cried, hands breaking apart to flap around like blind albino bats. "I know what I can do! _You_ know what I can do! You've _watched_ me kill someone, Marty! In a brutal, horrible way!"

Understanding dawned on Marty's face. "Shit. . .you never got over the Queen, did you?"

"I – I thought f-for a while I was, but. . . ." Victor let out a heavy sigh. "Injecting a woman with spiders who then _eat_ their way out of her is not something you 'g-get over' easily."

Marty made a face. "Yeah, okay, fair. . .though I'd argue the 'woman' part."

"The top part was definitely human and female. Close enough." He held up a hand to forestall Marty's next words. "And I _know_ she was a monster, and I _know_ there was probably no way to talk her down, but I. . .I didn't _need_ to do what I did. I didn't need to kill her like _that_."

"No, but – Victor, you'd _just_ Gone Creative," Marty argued. "In the middle of – let's face it, a _war zone_. Freaking heart of darkness itself. Your little trick with the spiders? Creepy as shit, I'm not gonna lie, but it could have been a _lot_ worse."

"How so?"

"Well – for one thing, you could have not bothered to make sure they died after five minutes."

Victor winced, recalling that brief moment where thousands of scuttling legs had turned toward his friends, pincers ready to rip and tear in the most desperate desire to feed any living creature had ever felt. They'd come so close to tearing into Doc and Marty and Alice and everyone else. . .and he'd been too busy looking upon his handiwork to even worry that maybe the safeguard he'd put in might not function correctly, that the people he'd tried so hard to save might now die by his hand. . . "I almost didn't," he mumbled, cheeks burning. "I – I was so focused on e-ending her, on making sure she wouldn't hurt Alice. . .I only – I only remembered three-quarters of the way through that I w-wouldn't be able to command them n-not to hurt you. . . ."

"But you remembered," Marty pointed out, giving his arms a squeeze. "You made sure that we wouldn't get hurt. That's the thing about you, Victor – even when you're going full Madboy? You still _care_. Remember what Lady Heterodyne said, after it was all over and she'd had a chance to talk to you? She'd never _heard_ of a Touched who, in the middle of a breakthrough, hesitated to test everything they were making on the first person available. And yet there you were, waiting for Emily to _volunteer_ before you did the butterfly thing. Willing to use _yourself_ if she wasn't willing. That ain't usually a thing that happens, Victor. Hell, look at today! You got pissed off and gave Gordon a hell of a scare, yeah – but first off, the asshole deserved it, the way he was talking. And second – you stopped once you saw how it was affecting me and my folks. You _apologized_."

"I just did what any p-polite person would do," Victor murmured, staring at his shoes.

"Exactly! You didn't let the madness stop you from being _you_. And everybody calmed down pretty fast because they realized you weren't gonna go mental on _them_. Trust me, if Linda had been scared of you, she wouldn't have been jokin' around about siccing the voice on me."

Victor shrugged a shoulder, allowing him the point. "I suppose. . .but they haven't seen me in full Creative bloom. You have."

"Yeah, I have. And I'm not scared of you either. Victor, I know you're pretty freaked out by what you did to the Queen. Like I said, I'm not saying the spiders weren't super creepy. But they also _saved our lives_." He lifted Victor's chin, meeting his eyes with a gaze that was suddenly a bit watery. "I wouldn't be marrying Jennifer in a week if you hadn't done what you did."

Victor's anxieties whirled around his head, asking each other in frantic whispers, _What do we say to that?_ He swallowed. "That's – all right," he whispered. "But – I'm still – I'm still s-scared that, one day, I _will_ go too far. T-that it won't be a monster who gets the brunt of my wrath."

"I don't think that's gonna happen, Victor," Marty assured him. "I mean, yeah, I know me saying that doesn't make the feeling go away, but. . .well. Look, if it had been _me_ up against Gordon today? I probably would have given him a black eye, and been thrown out of the Palace for starting a brawl. You just pulled out the scary smile and made him want to piss himself."

"And everyone else around me," Victor reminded him. "Even if they recovered quickly, I _did_ give them a fright." He paused, considering. "Except maybe your grandmother. I think that woman has never been frightened by anything in her life."

"Gramma's a pretty tough old bird," Marty confirmed. "And hey, you think Doc hasn't freaked 'em out once or twice? Hell, _I've_ probably given my parents a few near heart-attacks with the stuff we used to get up to."

"True, but. . . ." Victor rubbed his eye. "I guess it's more – I don't like being reminded that I have a temper. Especially when I've seen what that temper can do." He looked back at Marty, gnawing the inside of his cheek. "I – I still have bad days. Days when it's like I never left Doc's bedroom. Where I'm staring up at the tattered ink stains on the wallpaper, digging my heels in against the darkness trying to swallow me whole. Against the part of me that doesn't care about friends, or family, or anything other than _science_. And I'm terrified that – that one day, the darkness will win. And then it'll be _my_ turn to get put down."

Marty worried his bottom lip. "Damn – wish we'd invited Doc along to stay the night," he admitted. "He'd be better with this shit than I am. . . ." He put a hand on Victor's shoulder, giving him a firm stare. "But I know this – you've won every time so far. And I know you can keep winning. You're not alone in fighting that dark, you know. You got me, and Doc, and Richard, Emily, Christopher, Victoria. . .and Alice. You said yourself she's what keeps you anchored. You think that's gonna somehow go away once the baby is born?"

"Oh, no, of course not!" Victor said immediately, holding up a hand. "I trust her more than I trust myself. But we're not joined at the hip, either. What happens if I have a moment and she's _not_ there?"

"Well, what happens _now_ when you do and she's not around?"

Victor's cheeks warmed. ". . .Honestly, I usually just slump to the floor and hold my head until she finds me."

"Okay, uh, not _great_ ," Marty admitted. "But you could probably just keep doing that if you had to."

"But – but what if the baby _needs_ something when it happens?" Victor pressed, unable to stop himself. "What if I'm the only one who can help and I – I can't–"

"Victor." Marty looked him dead in the eye. "I have seen you go through some shit. I've seen you plunge right into the deepest, purest rage any Touched can be in. I've seen you rant and rave, and – yeah – kill. And I asked you here. To attend my wedding – to be one of my _best men_. Because you are _still_ one of my best friends." He jerked his head toward the house. "The same goes for all the rest. Doc, Richard, Emily, Christopher, Victoria, Alice? They all saw the same shit I did. They all went through it too. And they still think you're awesome. Hell, Alice _married_ you after all that. She's having your _kid_. Do you think she'd do that with someone she was _afraid_ of?" He gripped Victor by the shoulders tightly. "None of what happened that day changed our minds about you. We've seen you at your worst, and we haven't given up on you. Don't give up on yourself. We trust you, Victor – why won't _you_?"

 _Because you're not up here with the abyss, threatening to drag you in_ – but, somehow, staring into Marty's blue eyes, full of the unshakable faith that Victor was _not_ a monster, that thought didn't feel as weighty as it usually did. Victor smiled – faintly, shakily, but truly. "I'll – I'll try," he murmured, voice slightly choked. "Thank you."

"Hey, no problem." Marty pulled him into a hug. "Surprised Alice hasn't given you this talk before."

"Oh, she has, but – back when the wounds were still fresh," Victor replied, squeezing him back. "Before Gordon, I'd managed to keep these worries to a dull roar. . .I'll talk to her, though. In the morning." He pulled back to give Marty a significant look. "You do _not_ rouse a sleeping pregnant woman for anything but the direst emergency."

Marty laughed. "Good to know for when me and Jennifer have kids, I guess."

"Yes, you should definitely take notes." Victor sighed, then dragged Marty back in for hug number two. "H-have I mentioned how much I've missed you and Doc?"

"It may have come up." Marty patted his back. "We've missed you too. It just – hasn't been the same without you here."

"It hasn't been the same in Secundus, either," Victor told him, looking down. "No one's bought the shop, you know. It's still sitting there, same as the day you left. I think – I think everyone's quietly waiting for you and Doc to come back."

"Yeah, well, I wouldn't say no to going back," Marty admitted. "It was awesome, living there. No one giving Doc funny looks for his Inventions, or telling me my music's 'weird' or 'too loud. . . .'" He pulled free, shifting from foot to foot. "But my family's here. And so's Jennifer. I can't leave her behind again, I love her. We just – _click_ , ya know?"

"I do," Victor nodded. "And I know that you have a life here. Just. . . ." He rubbed the back of his head. "There's a hole in my world that I can't quite fill with anyone else. Alice is amazing, the love of my life, but. . .you two. . .you were my family. I was closer to you after a couple of months than I ever was to my parents. You and Doc – you – you mean a lot to me. My life would be infinitely poorer if I hadn't met you."

Marty ducked his head, blushing. "Oh, come on," he said, voice a touch strangled. "Shouldn't we be saving the sentimental shit for my wedding day?"

Victor chuckled. "Practice." He ruffled Marty's hair on a whim. "You _will_ come visit once you and Jennifer are settled?"

"Oh hell yeah," Marty promised, crossing his heart. "There's no way I could stay away forever. Even with Gillin breathing down my neck. We'll find a way to make it work, I swear."

"Good." A gigantic yawn suddenly escaped Victor's mouth, forcing him to cover it with a hand. "Oh – do forgive me," he said once he'd gotten his voice back. "I'm – more tired than I realized."

"Not surprised – it's like two in the morning," Marty said, glancing skyward. "You okay to head back to bed?"

Victor nodded. "I think so."

"Great. Because I _really_ gotta pee."

Victor snorted. "Sorry – forgot for a minute." He waved at the little building behind them. "Don't let me keep you."

"It's okay, I'm used to holding it. Both Dave and Linda take _forever_ in there, fair warning." Marty started toward the outhouse, then paused and looked back. "Hey – you really _are_ gonna be a great dad."

Victor smiled. "I'll give it my best shot. See you in the morning." He yawned again. "Well – _later_ in the morning."

"See ya." Marty gave him a quick wave, then dashed into the outhouse, letting the door bang closed behind him. Victor took a deep breath, then headed back inside, creeping through the living room and down the stairs to the basement as quietly as possible. _At least I do feel better after all that,_ he thought, running his fingers through his hair. _Nice to be reminded that my friends are on my side. Now if only I can –_

"Victor?"

 _Damn it._ "Sorry, Alice," Victor whispered, approaching the bed on tiptoe. "I didn't mean to wake you."

Alice frowned at him, beckoning him closer. "Are you all right? I know you're prone to insomnia, but usually you don't go sneaking off."

"I had a bad dream," Victor confessed, slipping under the covers next to her. "I talked it over with Marty, though."

"Ah. Anything I need to say at the moment?"

Victor looked at her, watching the way her green eyes practically glowed in the flickering lamplight. The abyss in his head retreated, as it always did when confronted with her gaze. "No, not yet. I think it can wait until morning."

"Good." Alice pulled him down, wrapping her arms tightly around him and resting her head on his chest. "Because I am bone bloody tired, and I'm not giving up my pillow again."

"I'm fine with that." Victor ran his fingers through her hair. "I love you." His hand found her belly, stroking the curve. "Both of you."

The baby kicked, little foot sending tiny shock waves through his fingertips. "We love you too," Alice said, with a quick glance down. "Though the little one has a very funny way of showing it, I admit."

Victor chuckled. "I'll live." He wrapped himself around her, letting his eyes drift closed. "Good night, sweetheart."

Soft lips pecked his. "Good night."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \-->Obviously "Lloyd Fox" is a reference to Christopher Lloyd and Michael J. Fox, aka Doc and Marty. Hill Valley being incorporated in 1865 was taken from the wiki -- apparently the canonical festival in 1885 marks 20 years of townhood!


	5. A Not Very Good Attempt At Revenge

September 2nd, 1882

Hill Valley, California

10:14 A.M.

"So. This terrifying conglomeration of metal – this haphazard pile of flywheels and levers and pipes – this clanging and banging _monster_ of a machine – is for the sole purpose of spitting out _ice cubes_."

Doc gave Alice a look as he plucked the – rather meager, in Victor's quiet opinion – fruits of his and Marty's labor out of the dish. "Look, Hill Valley is _not_ as technologically advanced as Secundus," he said, dropping the cubes into a tall beaker of brown liquid. "I'm working with substandard materials here."

"And it's not _just_ to make ice," Marty said, pointing to some drawers tucked off near the bottom. "It does regular old refrigeration too. See, this one's for milk and butter, and that one's for eggs."

"Ah – all right, previous comment retracted," Alice allowed with a little nod. She looked up at the rest of the contraption, which took up a good chunk of the wall at the front of Doc's shop. "Still – I'm sure you'd welcome a good miniaturization device here, wouldn't you, Doc?"

"You have _no_ idea," Doc said, taking a healthy swig from his beaker.

"Well, I think it's quite well made for being constructed in the middle of nowhere with only the bare necessities," Richard said, hands on his hips. He turned to Doc with a frown, wrinkling his nose. "What disturbs _me_ is that you still haven't given up your strange obsession with drinking perfectly good tea _cold_."

"Don't knock it until you try it, Richard," Doc responded, swirling his ice cubes. "Especially not until you've experienced a Hill Valley summer."

"Oooh yeah," Marty agreed, grimacing. "I was about ready to _melt_ by the time we hit August last year."

"Really?" Christopher grinned. "Is this the same young fellow who spent his first two months in Secundus complaining that England was entirely too cold and that he would _never_ get used to it?"

"Yeah, turns out I spoke too soon. Never know what you got until it's gone. . . ."

"It certainly is warmer here," Victoria agreed, gazing out the wide doors of the converted stable Doc called both shop and home at the dusty not-quite-a-square beyond. "And _much_ drier. I'm glad I thought to bring my summer dresses!"

"Wooo boy – if you'd turned up in your winter wear, I think you would have been dead before you got off the train." Marty glanced at Emily. "Uh, no offense."

"None taken," Emily assured him with a slight chuckle. She ran her fingers over one of the wheels mounted on the front of the crude refrigerator. "I'm surprised Mayor Gillin even let you build this, Doc."

"I'd actually completed it just before we were forced to make our great escape," Doc explained. "No one was willing to touch it while I was away, and I was able to argue for its continued existence when we came back due to its limited capabilities." He glanced outside. "Granted, I try only to use it when he's not in town."

"Yeah, he comes around and glares at us whenever he hears it," Marty said with a deep sigh. "Or anything other noise that makes him think we're doing something interesting."

"He's outright banned me from using the Terminator – though, given what a pain that blasted gun is to load, sometimes I think he's done me a favor," Doc admitted. "And God forbid he catch me even _looking_ at the Presto-Logs. . . ."

"The what now?" Victor asked, puzzled.

Doc inclined his head toward a pile of brightly-colored wood, lying neglected in the corner. "Compressed wood and anthracite dust, chemically treated to burn hotter and longer than regular logs. I used them in my forge so I wouldn't have to waste time stoking it. Real time-saver, and no one complained about the results. And then the _incident_ happened, and. . . ." He sighed. "But let's be fair – _that's_ on my own head. I should have been paying attention to what color I was tossing in there. I was just – on a roll with a new Invention, and. . . ." He waved a hand around his head. "You know me when I get into a project."

"Just like the rest of us," Christopher said with a nod. "I suppose I can understand why Gillin would get nervous about you using those again."

"Yeah. . .we _get_ why he's so twitchy around mad science," Marty said, leaning against the nearby table. "I mean, the whole thing with the fires and the cheese and his hat – it was bad. He was totally right to get pissed off at us. It's just – he said he was okay with us coming back, said all was forgiven, and it's _not_. Over a year in, with apologies galore and keepin' our noses clean, and he's still acting like we're about to blow the place up."

"Precisely – if he's giving us a second chance, I'd like him to go ahead and _give_ it," Doc agreed, folding his arms. "Stop with all the surprise checks and unneeded lectures."

"And being rude to your guests?" Alice added.

"That would be nice too."

"Mmmm – did you see the _look_ he gave us when the wagon came into town?" Victoria asked the group at large. "I swear, I half-expected him to order us to go all the way back to the McFly farm!"

"There's a reason I left Lightning there today," Victor said, sighing. "I didn't need more comments about how he was obviously a giant modified rat."

"I don't know what to tell you about that, Victor," Marty said, shaking his head. "I mean, I know people around here usually have bigger dogs, but – sheesh, who knew the whole town would be so afraid of corgis?"

"I'm sure he's having fun running around after anything that moves, and most things that don't," Christopher said with a little smile. "Dogs require less in the way of entertainment options than humans. Was that why your mother was so happy to see us off today, Marty? Or was it the fear that I'd dare to pick up a shovel and try to help out with the chores?"

"Little from column A, _lot_ from column B," Marty told him, chuckling. "You're our guests, after all. Mom, Gramma, and Aunt Caroline would die of embarrassment if you even so much as _thought_ about digging a ditch or scooping up pig poop." He paused and considered that. "Well, okay, Gramma might not mind the extra help, but she's got her pride, so. . .the idea is that we cater to your every whim while you're here, and you repay us by not eating us out of house and home."

"I thought that having their every whim catered to was the special treat of the bride in these circumstances," Richard remarked.

"That depends a lot on the bride telling you what her whims _are_ ," Marty laughed. "Jennifer's not good at making demands – or a big production out of things."

"What, dragging your three best friends and their wives over all the way from England after practically begging your mayor for his permission on bended knee doesn't count?" Alice asked, smirking.

"Hey, that's _my_ production, not hers," Marty pointed out. "And I hope you know we're friends too."

Alice's smile softened into something more genuine. "Of course I do. And I'm very happy to be here."

"We all are," Emily agreed, bouncing on her heels. "And we'd all like to be friends with Jennifer as well. Will we get to see her today?"

"She promised to be in town – another dress fitting. Which means _you_ might see more of her than _I_ do, today." Marty rolled his eyes fondly. "Why is keeping the dress a secret until the wedding day such a big thing with girls?"

"It's the wow factor," Emily informed him, grinning. "You want to absolutely dazzle your fiance on the big day." She did a little twirl. "There's nothing like walking down the aisle and seeing your husband-to-be's jaw drop at how stunning you are."

"There's nothing like seeing your stunning wife-to-be walk toward you and realize you get to marry her," Richard said, catching her arm and pulling her into an embrace. "Although it must be said you didn't exactly practice what you preach. You were wearing pretty much nothing _but_ your wedding dress right up until our honeymoon."

"Point – but I _did_ get it repaired for the occasion," Emily reminded him. "Sally is a _wizard_ with a needle and thread. I didn't think _anyone_ could have recreated the sleeves and collar, given how delicate the lace netting was, but she managed in less than a week!"

"Practice makes perfect – especially when you're practicing not only on clothes, but your own limbs," Richard declared, holding up a finger. The tip popped off, revealing his dart gun. "Why do you think I'm so good at making both hats and mechanical limbs?"

"Too bad Jennifer doesn't need either of those," Marty said. "And I don't think I could convince the local guy to let you have a crack at making a hat for me. Honestly, I'm not sure you'd even fit in the shop, what with how low the ceiling is."

"Fortunately, I thought of that before we arrived," Richard replied, straightening up. "Which is why, if you'll let me, I will be happy to give you as an early wedding present–"

" _AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHH_!"

Everyone started, heads twisting wildly as they searched for the source of the scream. "What was _that_?!" Victoria demanded, clinging onto Christopher.

"Think you caught another one, Doc," Marty said, sighing. "You'd think they'd learn to keep away by this point."

"Some people just don't comprehend consequences until they themselves have to suffer them," Doc replied, rubbing his face. "It's not like I don't make it pretty obvious what'll happen, but. . . ."

"Caught another one?" Victor echoed, pressing a hand against his chest.

"One of the favorite pranks of the younger set around here – and some of the older set too, though none of them would ever dare to admit it – is sneaking over to my paddock and opening the gate to let the horses out," Doc explained, heading for the street. "So I installed a security system of sorts. Which, yes, Mayor Gillin complained about – right up until the moment I reminded him that, as I was the only blacksmith in town, his horse would have to stay overnight here sooner or later. It's pretty simplistic, anyway – barely even qualifies as a machine. Most of the local kids have been caught by it at least once. I wonder who–"

"Help! Let me out of here! Get me _down_!"

Victor's eyes went wide. "Oh no," he said, darting ahead of Doc. "That isn't–"

It was. Rounding the open door and turning toward the paddock fence brought him face to face with Gordon Tannen. Which, given the difference in their height, was only possible thanks to the fact that Gordon was currently entangled in an old rope net dangling from a beam. They gawked at each other a moment. "Can Dort? _Seriously?_ " Gordon finally groaned. "Why are _you_ here?"

"I believe I said something about visiting friends when we ran into each other at the Palace," Victor said, pinching his nose as the others caught up. "Why are _you_ here?"

"I – I was – I was just walking by when this crazy thing scooped me up!" Gordon claimed, eyes darting left and right. "This how you get your materials, old man?"

"I don't think bones or flesh would do very well on my anvil," Doc replied, sighing. He nodded at a row of dominoes lying in the sand just inside the paddock gate. Next to them was a ball in a cup, the latter of which was tied to some sort of crude mechanical throwing arm. This was pointed at a nearby pole, which had a target attached to the top, a crank about midway down its side, and another, larger ball resting at its base. The crank was attached to a length of rope, which wound through a number of pulleys, across the beam stretching over the gate, and finally terminated in a bundle of bricks lying on the ground. A bundle of bricks, Victor realized, which was attached to the other end of the net. "And all this went off by itself, huh?"

". . .yes?"

Doc huffed. "Nice try, kid. If it makes you feel better, you've at least inconvenienced me slightly by having to set all this back up."

Alice gave the system her own once over. "It's not exactly subtle," she commented, eyes skimming over the elaborate pulley system before turning to Gordon. "Which is poor commentary on either your observational skills, or your intelligence in general. Or both."

"Look, I didn't realize there was a _net_ involved!" Gordon snapped back, twisting to and fro in his little ropey prison. "Get me _down_!"

"All in good time," Doc said, proceeding down the fence. Grasping the top rail, he lifted it to reveal a secret door. He slipped inside, closed it behind him, then began to meticulously realign all of his dominoes. "I have to have everything just right so it doesn't trigger a false alarm. The system is decent enough for warding off pranksters, but a good wind can occasionally play havoc with my peace of mind."

"Why not put those on a track of some kind?" Christopher suggested, leaning over the fence. "Or, better yet, physically attach them to the track so you could just flip them right back up again."

"Hmmm. That's a thought. Don't think Gillin could give me trouble for _that_."

Gordon let out a theatrical groan, shoving his face against the ropes. "Oh man. . .why me?"

"Hey, count yourself lucky, dude," Marty said, giving him a little push. "Doc's _first_ security system gave people electric shocks."

Gordon glared at him as he swung back and forth. "Yeah – you help him set it up, Igor?"

"Aaactually, I was an early victim of the darn thing," Marty said with a little laugh. "It's how I met Doc, in fact. What happened was, I needed a tuning fork for my guitar, but the guy at the local odds-and-ends shop told me he'd only had the one, and he'd sold it to Doc earlier. Now, I'd heard pretty much every crazy story about the local blacksmith growing up, so at the time, I thought he was dangerous. But I _really_ needed that fork, so I figured I'd chance talking to him and see if I could get him to at least let me borrow it for an afternoon. Came around only to find he'd was out somewhere–"

"Taking some old bottles off Chester's hands at the Palace," Doc filled in, pushing a domino a little deeper into the dirt. "I was doing experiments with sound waves at the time. Hence _my_ need for a tuning fork."

"Right and he had the place locked up tight," Marty continued. "With a keypad hooked up right in front of the doors."

"A what?" Gordon said, confused.

"Oh, right – electric box with lots of buttons on it," Marty explained. "You press 'em in a certain order, and things happen. Most of them have either numbers or letters – Doc's had both."

"One through eight and A through H to be precise," Doc said, moving onto the ball and cup. "Press the right ones in the right order, and the door opened. Anything else, and you received a very mild electric shock."

"Oh, is that how you get your jollies, old man?" Gordon accused, lip curled. "Zapping people?"

"Hardly – it only happened when I _wasn't_ in," Doc told him, rolling his eyes. "And the only reason I set up such a system is that people kept breaking in and either stealing minor items or messing up the place. Hell, I even gave all comers a fair warning – I'd also set up a wax cylinder player with the keypad that activated whenever an intruder came close, telling them to vacate the premises if they didn't wish to get hurt. Most people were scared away by that alone, and the few who weren't generally left after the first jolt." He tipped the cup back upright. "Marty is, so far, the only one to spot the clue to the code I'd left in the recording."

"'One to foresee?' Come on, Doc, that was child's play," Marty said with a dismissive little wave.

"Then I guess the average citizen of Hill Valley must have an IQ less than your average child's."

"One to foresee. . .oh! One-two-four-C!" Emily declared, clapping her hands. "Obvious once you think about it!"

"Yeah, exactly – though, if I'm honest, I only started thinking about it on my _second_ try," Marty admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "The shock wasn't much worse than getting zapped by the rug in winter, though, and I _really_ wanted that fork. So once I puzzled out the code, I went in and started looking around, and ended up getting kinda caught up in all the stuff inside. Doc caught me a few minutes later when he came back with his bottles."

"My first reaction being, 'Excuse me, what are you doing in here' – followed rapidly by 'wait a minute, you actually figured out the code?'" Doc said, smiling. He pulled back the throwing arm and locked it into place. "Marty explained about the tuning fork, then started asking me about all my Inventions. . .and before either of us knew it, his mother was at the door, telling him that they had to leave _now_ if they wanted to get home before dark. Little surprised she didn't just drag him out by his ear, honestly, she must have been waiting for ages. . .anyway, I gave him both the tuning fork and the offer to be my assistant before he left – he accepted both eagerly, and that, as they say, is history."

"So _that's_ why you were prepared to take _me_ in so quickly," Victor said with a nostalgic grin. "It must have felt like that day all over again."

"Right around the time your eyes lit up during my explanation of the hover conversion system," Doc confirmed with a nod, loading the larger ball into the arm's "hand." "Though I would have preferred you just sneaking into my shop over dragging you halfway across the countryside under the train."

"Me too," Victor said, before putting his arm around Alice. "But it was worth it in the end."

"Aw, what a cute story," Emily said with a giggle. "Don't you think so, Richard?"

Silence. Emily looked around at the suddenly-empty space beside her, blinking. "Richard?"

_clank – BANG!_

All heads whipped toward the still-open shop doors. "Richard?!" Emily repeated, voice squeaky with sudden fear. "Are you all right?"

"Fine!" Richard ducked back through the entrance, holding up a struggling figure. "But you might want to consider reinstalling that keypad, Doc."

Doc gasped, snapping up straight from the crank. "Buford!"

"You tell your thingamajig to put me down, blacksmith!" the man dangling from Richard's hand demanded, punching randomly at the air. He was a grimy fellow, with the vast majority of his face obscured beneath a ragged hat, a large droopy mustache, and a healthy layer of smeared dirt – but Victor could see a pair of Gordon-blue eyes peeking out, alive with fury. "You ain't supposed to be makin' doodads anymore!"

"Thingamajig and doodad!" Richard repeated, grinning. "Can't deny those are much more fun than some of the names I've been called!"

"I was expecting worse language myself – he's not one of my Inventions, either," Doc added to Buford, glaring. "He's a person in his own right. What the hell were you doing in my shop, Tannen?"

"If you want your damn horse shod again, just _ask_ ," Marty added, rolling his eyes.

"Oh, I ain't takin' any horse of mine here no more!" Buford declared, kicking his feet. "You're a bunch of no-good egg-suckin' gutter trash! You and your nags!"

"Ah – totally explains why you were eyeing Archimedes when I came up behind you," Richard commented, twisting Buford around to look him in the eye. "Obviously a gunslinger of your caliber needs an 'egg-sucking gutter trash' horse."

"Don't act like you know what you're sayin', clanky man," Buford growled.

"I was quoting you, Mr. 'I Just Used A Double Negative Three Sentences Ago.'"

"'Clanky man?'" Gordon repeated, pressing his face into his hand. "Are you five?"

"You shut it, limey!" Buford snapped, wiggling around just enough to jab a finger at him. " _You_ were supposed to be keepin' this lot busy! Coulda told me about _this_ thing bein' around!"

"Keeping us – this was a fix!" Marty cried, whirling back around on Gordon. "You got yourself caught on purpose so we'd come out here and leave the door open!"

"No!" Gordon started, then wilted under the combined weight of nine glares. "Okay, fine, I was gonna be a distraction – but by opening the paddock, not getting wrapped up in this weird thing! You were _supposed_ to catch me when I started spookin' the horses!"

"You're _lucky_ you ended up in the net, then – I know for a fact that Harley over there kicks anything and everything that frightens her," Doc said, going back to his crank. "Using another person as a distraction – rather more clever than I expected from you, Buford. Usually your methods are a lot more – _direct_."

"Oh, I was gonna get direct," Buford snarled, hands clasping and unclasping like he longed to throttle Doc. "Right after I got what you owed me."

"Owed you? What the hell are you talking about?"

"Eighty dollars, blacksmith!" Buford declared, raising a finger to the sky. "Eighty dollars for a good horse and a fine bottle of Kentucky Red Eye!"

Richard looked between Buford and Doc. "I'm – not following. Mostly because I'm standing still."

"Neither am I," Doc said, blinking. "Are you asking me to pay for the privilege of shoeing your horse?"

"I'm askin' you to pay for a lousy job! Blackie threw a shoe, and I smashed that Red Eye when he bucked me off!"

"You want the whole worth of the horse for _one shoe_?" Christopher asked, an eyebrow raised.

"Shot the horse, didn't I?"

"Over a thrown shoe?!" Emily exchanged a wounded look with Victoria. "You horrible, horrible man."

"Hey, least I _am_ a man." Buford squinted at her bony arm in disgust. "Rippin' the dead right out of their graves now, blacksmith?"

"Again, not mine," Doc sighed. "They're just friends from back in the city."

"Yeah, I bet. . .which one of you is 'Can Dort?'" Buford suddenly asked, looking around. His eyes fell on Richard, and Victor fancied he turned just a smidgen paler under his grime. "Ain't you, is it?"

"Richard Dodgson," Richard introduced himself. "There's no one named 'Can Dort' here. Now, if you're looking for ' _Van_ Dort,' we do have one of those."

"You're still using that ridiculous name?" Alice asked Gordon. "And you accuse _him_ of being five."

"It's what he _is_ ," Gordon whined, sounding exactly like a five-year-old.

"No, actually, it isn't," Victor told him, resisting the urge to grab the net and give him a good shake. "In case no one told you how getting disowned works, it means I'm the _last_ person in the world William wants anywhere near his cannery now."

"Doesn't matter," Gordon sneered. "You'll _always_ stink of fish."

"Actually, he usually smells like flowers," Richard put in. "Side effect of doing pollinating insects as his primary Inventions, I'm sure."

"Yeah, like that's so much better."

Richard raised an eyebrow. ". . .what kind of flowers usually grow in Burtonsville?"

"Ones as gray and dead as the rest of the village," Victor said, giving Gordon a dark look. "I really _am_ glad you chased me out of there."

"So you were going to steal one of Doc's horses. . .and then what?" Christopher asked, looking between Buford and Gordon. "I mean, I can tell this hasn't gone according to plan, but I'm still working out what the plan _was_."

"You all weren't supposed to be here!" Gordon snapped, gesturing as best he could through the net. "It was supposed to just be Brown and his little shrimp! Buford was supposed to grab a horse, plug Brown, then we'd be on our way!"

"To find Victor and plug him?" Alice said, in a voice like fresh-carved ice. "Doc, I vote we _don't_ let him out of the net."

"I do have to put him on the ground to get this thing reset," Doc said apologetically, winding the crank. "But given the sheriff's office is just across the square, I think we can drag them over there without much issue. Especially with Richard's help."

"Happy to be of service!" Richard said, tipping his hat with his spare hand – which, considering it came _out_ of his hat, was kind of an impressive feat.

"Oh no!" Buford thrashed, kicking the air like he had a personal vendetta against oxygen. "I ain't lettin' no Madboy or his pets get the better of _me_!"

"Already happened," Emily informed him blandly.

"Oooh boy – Strickland's gonna be sorry he missed this," Marty said, grinning. "Buford Tannen, locked up in his jail."

"Deputy O'Malley should be pleased," Doc said, watching as the rope retracted, dragging the bundle of bricks back up and lowering the net. "Though maybe not by who's bringing them in."

"That's _his_ problem," Christopher declared, stepping forward to grab the side of the net as it started to go slack. "He made a vow to uphold the law no matter what." He grinned at Gordon as the young man reached ground level again. "Maybe you'll be lucky and get off with a simple charge of criminal – _oof_!"

Gordon's foot connected solidly with Christopher's middle, doubling over the taller man. Victor shot forward as Victoria hurried to support her husband – but before he could actually get a grip on Gordon, his foot caught on the net, and he sprawled face-down in the dirt. Gordon hopped away from him, then tripped into Marty, bowling them both over. He recovered a split-second faster and started running – Marty snagged the back of his shirt, but only managed to rip off a chunk before Gordon broke free again. "I've got him!" Richard cried, swinging his arm wide to scoop Gordon up in one fell swoop –

Except now it was Buford's turn to finally get a hit in, as one of his wildly-swinging feet smacked Richard in the hip. Richard yelped and staggered, reflexively grabbing the injured area and dropping Buford in the process. Gordon managed to weave around him, skidding right before stumbling back left, and the pair promptly bolted for the wide-open horizon just beyond the shop. Emily butterflied after them, but her insects just couldn't keep up with the pounding legs. "Damn – sorry, I tried," she panted as she reformed.

"It's okay," Victor said, getting his feet. "Give me just a minute, Doc, I can probably catch up to Gordon at least–"

"No, don't," Doc said, putting his arm in front of him. "Buford knows that desert better than anyone – the minute you end up in his territory, it's going to end badly for you. Not to mention, he almost never truly travels alone – that gang of his is sure to be nearby, eager to shoot anyone who tries to follow." He frowned. "Honestly, I'm surprised _he_ didn't try a few potshots at us. He's never been shy about pulling out his gun before."

"As well I know – he didn't hesitate a moment to shoot me right in the chest when he spotted me looming over him," Richard grumbled, rubbing the affected area. "If I'd still been flesh in that spot, I'd have likely been a goner. But, as far as I know, his gun's still in your shop – he dropped it when I picked him up."

"Ah. So, based on the average market value of firearms around here, I now owe him ninety-two dollars." Doc sighed. "God damn it. . . ."

"I'm – I'm sorry, Doc," Christopher said, finally straightening up as Victoria continued to fuss. "I thought I had him, I just didn't expect. . . _oof_." He rubbed his stomach. "Bastard kicks like a carthorse."

"Buford isn't much better," Richard said, patting his hip. "Damn it, though, I wish I hadn't dropped him!"

"I wish I hadn't tripped," Victor said, giving the net a little kick to relieve his feelings. "Why is it whenever speed is of the essence, I fall over something?"

"I would have given capturing one of them a shot if not for _this_ ," Alice said, glaring down at her belly. "And I don't think attempting to fling my knife into one of them would have ended well."

"I didn't even think about going after Gordon – my first worry was Christopher," Victoria admitted, going pink. "I'm sorry, Doc, I should have done more."

"You're fine – all of you," Doc said, looking around the group. " _I_ should have considered that Gordon would make a break for it the first chance he got and left the damn net in place. If one of us had brought O'Malley over here instead. . . ." He sighed and shook his head. "Live and learn. And hopefully Gordon's learned not to mess with my things."

"And Buford not to come anywhere near us when Richard's around," Marty added, picking himself up. "I don't think he's used to people being able to pick him up by the scruff of his neck!"

"Mmmm – that was probably the problem," Richard admitted. "If I'd had a more solid grip on him. . . ."

"We could argue fault until the cows come home, dear," Emily said, touching his arm. "Really, though, what horrible people! Victor, I'm so sorry you had to put up with that Gordon growing up. And Doc, Marty, how do you _stand_ Buford?"

"Mostly by giving him a wide berth whenever he's in town," Marty said. "Which was easy, right up until he needed his horse shod, and I guess couldn't find another blacksmith." He rubbed his face with a groan. "Jackass _would_ show up now too. . .couldn't get a nice, quiet week before my wedding, nooooo. . . ."

"Do you think they'll be back?" Victoria asked, scanning the horizon.

"Tannens are like bad pennies, so, definitely," Doc replied, rolling his eyes. "I'll have to start locking the place up a little more thoroughly at night and when I'm out. A shame that I _can't_ set up my old electronic system again, but that was one of the first things to go once we got back and Mayor Gillin started laying down the law. And we should make a report to the sheriff's office and turn in Buford's gun. They'll need to know he's back in the area and causing trouble – and he's got a relative with him doing the same."

"But – w-what if they're like the mayor?" Victor had to ask. "Claiming that we brought it on ourselves just by b-being here?"

"I won't say that Deputy O'Malley won't _insinuate_ a few things, but trust me – the local police around here hate Buford more than any Touched," Doc assured him. "And he won't want any Regular civilians caught in the crossfire between us either." He sighed again and spread his arms wide. "I don't expect either of them to show their faces again today, but keep an eye out and your wits about you. I can't speak for Gordon's competence – though he sounds like he was a vicious bully–"

"He was," Victor put in. "Like I told Marty before, he's essentially the reason I can climb damn near anything. His plans never really went beyond 'seek me out, call me names, and beat me up if I couldn't get away in time,' though. Except for the one time he and a crony made me dump a barrel of fish all over myself and then got my in trouble with William over it."

"Mmmm – so we can reasonably expect more incidents like this," Doc said, nodding to the reset paddock door. "All right – Buford, on the other hand, is a _lot_ more dangerous, especially when angered. He almost never hesitates to shoot first and ask questions later. And we haven't given him any particular reason to like us today."

"We'll be on our guard," Christopher promised.

"Yes," Victor agreed, with a look at Alice's belly.

She took his hand and squeezed it. "Extra cautious," she promised.

"Thanks." Victor let his head droop. "I'm sorry, everyone. I know it might seem a bit s-silly, but – I really feel like I somehow jinxed this whole trip."

"Hey, it's not your fault Gordon's here," Marty said, patting him on the back. "That's just a shitty coincidence. Same with Buford showing up around the same time. Everybody's mad at those assholes, not you." He smiled coldly. "Besides, you hear the way they were talking to each other? I don't think it's gonna be long before Buford starts trying to off Gordon. It'll spare the rest of us from having to deal with two Tannens at once."

* * *

"I should shoot you down like a dog!"

"It's _duck_ ," Gordon returned, hissing as he rubbed the rope burn on his arm. God damn it, why hadn't he taken a better look at that fence? Why had he agreed to mess with Madboy shit in the first place? "Shoot you down like a _duck_. And if you're so keen on it, why haven't you already?"

"Because that goddamn scrapwork _thing_ made me drop my gun!" Buford replied, gesturing wildly behind him. "I almost had my hands on that damn horse before he showed up! How'd Brown make a man that damn _tall_?! And solid – bullet just bounced right off!"

"He didn't – I saw that freak with the others in the Palace Saloon the other day," Gordon told him. "When they were doing introductions. Remember what Bittern said? It came over with Can Dort and the others from Secundus."

"So your fish boy is the one who made him?"

"I don't know!" Gordon shouted, pinwheeling his arms. "And I ain't goin' back to get a straight answer out of them!"

"He made himself."

Both men started, then looked over to see Barkis standing before them, Buford's gang lingering nearby. "From what I understand, anyway," he continued, examining his nails. "Already well-established as a haberdasher in Secundus by the time Van Dort arrived, apparently he started out as a man of flesh and bone, but continued bad reactions to mercury inspired him to – _improve_ himself."

"Huh – rippin' away everything that makes you human ain't improvement to me," Gordon spat.

"Damn straight," Buford nodded, in a shocking show of solidarity. Then he turned and slapped Gordon over the head. "You owe me twelve dollars, limey! Pay up!"

"Wha – for your _gun_?!" Buford nodded, fire in his eyes. "Bullshit! _I_ didn't make you drop it!"

"Your fault I didn't get my hands on that horse!" Buford countered, punching him in the shoulder. "You were supposed to be keepin' 'em busy!"

"I _was_!" Gordon returned, slugging him in the arm. Ceegar, Buck, and Stubble all "ooohed" and drew closer, eager to see the potential carnage. "They were all too eager to make fun of the poor guy stuck in their damn net! If _you'd_ been a bit faster and quieter about getting that stupid horse–"

"Gentlemen, gentlemen. . . ." Barkis insinuated himself between them, grinning. "You're both idiots. Stealing a horse? _That_ was your grand plan to show up Brown and Van Dort?"

"I was _gonna_ plug Brown," Buford argued, snarling. "Once I'd gotten my due." He jabbed a finger into Gordon's face. "And _he_ was supposed to let the rest of them out! It's all his fault!"

" _You're_ the one who got that mechanical weirdo's attention," Gordon snapped back. " _And_ lost your gun. Now we've probably got the bobbies on our tail!"

Buford's brow furrowed. "Bobby who?"

"No, no, 'bobby' is the nickname for the police back in England," Barkis explained, rolling his eyes.

"Er – our sheriff's name is Strickland," Stubble spoke up, as Ceegar and Buck exchanged puzzled looks over his head. "James Strickland."

"It has nothing to – never mind." Barkis pinched the bridge of his nose, then turned a smarmy smile on Gordon. "I wouldn't worry overmuch about them. From what I've seen during my short stay in this part of the country, frontier 'justice' typically consists of people hanging anyone who they don't like the look of and can't fight back. We can, so. . .and if this 'Strickland' _does_ come after us – well, surely parting with an ill-gotten gain or two will suffice to make him give up the hunt?"

Buford barked out a laugh. "Oh, me and my boys only wish. Strickland is like a hound on a pork chop – once he got the scent, he ain't ever lettin' go. Main reason we're in town is 'cause he _ain't_ for a few days. Deputy never was quite so eager to look for us."

"I see – well, I suppose that's still all right for us." Barkis sighed. "Look – what we need is a plan. A _real_ plan, not just 'stroll into town, make nuisances of ourselves by the blacksmith shop, and hope it causes the inhabitants some mild consternation.'"

Buford raised an eyebrow. "You throw around a lotta five-dollar-words for somebody who oughta be in his grave."

" _I_ was educated in the finest public schools in England," Barkis replied, putting his nose in the air. "I even did two semesters at Cambridge before I was called back by my parents to meet my first wife."

"Yeah – and see where it got you, _Lord_ ," Gordon said, pouring on the sarcasm.

Barkis shot him a glare, before rolling his eyes heavenward. "God, I miss the Queen," he muttered. "Tentacles everywhere, but at least you knew exactly where you stood with her – and how to deal with her." He looked down again, plastering on another fake smile. "I understand you both have your own personal grievances with Emmett Brown and Victor Van Dort. And far be it from me to begrudge you the chance to get even in your own small, not-very-successful ways." He leaned forward suddenly, baring his teeth and dropping any semblance of charm. "But remember this – nothing they have ever done to you – no amount of embarrassment or lost money – can even come _close_ to matching what they did to me. I have been reduced to the lowest of the bloody low by that lot – not even properly _alive_ anymore." He thumped a fist against his leg, his carefully-kept curls falling askew. "I want all eight of those lunatics and their brides to suffer. And I _demand_ that Brown and Van Dort in particular leave this world, never to return! _And. I. Will. N_ _ot. Allow. You. Morons. To. Muck. It. Up!_ "

Gordon bent away from Barkis's heavy glare, intimidated into silence – across from him, Buford did the same. Barkis gave them each one last glower for good measure, then stood up straight again, patting his hair back into place. "Now then – let's do this thing _properly_ ," he said, voice calm and collected again. "Make a real _statement_ out of it. I don't want Brown to lose one horse that can easily be replaced. I want utter _humiliation_ before we dive in with a knife." He spread his arms wide. "Ideas?"

Gordon gulped, glancing at Buford. _Oh shit – what have I gotten myself into? Caught between my idiot outlaw cousin and some crazy Reanimated bent on revenge. . .I should just go "forget it, do it on your own," head back to town, pack my bags, and figure out where to go from here. . .but – what the hell would this – this_ creature _do to me then? I don't think he'd take a cut-and-run well. . .but I don't have anything to offer, either! That horse thing was the best we had!_

_Unless. . ._ "There's – there's banners all over town saying there's going to be a festival on the fifth," he said slowly, drawing circles in the sand with his toe. "Something about the clock tower?"

"Yeah," Buford confirmed, getting his bearings again. "Big old party. Got food, booze, music, games. . .everybody's gonna be at that shindig. Me and my boys were thinkin' of droppin' by, so long as Strickland wasn't there."

Barkis grinned, wrapping an arm around each of them. Gordon shivered as the chill blue flesh rubbed up against his. "It _does_ sound like quite the event. I think you _both_ should drop in. It might be exactly the opportunity we're looking for."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \-->Doc's paddock security system, and the story of how he and Marty first met, are adapted from the story of how Doc and Marty first met (at least from Marty's perspective) from the IDW BTTF comic books that came out a little while back. I thought it was fun and wanted to adjust it to fit into the steampunk setting. :)


	6. Peril At Picnic Averted

September 4th, 1882

Hill Valley, California

11:29 A.M.

"Mmmmmmmmm. . . ."

"Told you you'd like it."

Victor grinned at Marty over what little remained of his watermelon rind. "Iths–" He paused, held up a finger, then finished chewing. "It's delicious! Absolutely amazing! I wish I'd tried it earlier!"

"First time for everything," Alice said, wiping the juice from her face. "I doubt watermelons like English weather anyway."

"Yeah, you could only pick 'em up from special hothouses over there," Marty confirmed, sipping his lemonade. "Never thought they tasted as good. Flint's were better, but – eh." He shrugged a shoulder. "There's really nothing like getting 'em fresh and whacking 'em up yourself."

"A sentiment I think we can all heartily agree on," Richard declared, setting aside his own rind. He swept a hand over the various plates of food before them on the blanket. "It's a delectable spread in general that you've set out for us! Why, I almost feel as if I'm back at my tea table!" His eyes flicked down to the blanket, spread across the desert sand. "Or, well, my tea table's tablecloth."

"Yeah, Mom, Gramma, Aunt Caroline, and Aunt Sylvia kinda went overboard, didn't they?" Marty admitted, picking up a little bowl. "I mean, we've got three different kinds of potato salad here. And a dozen each of six different sandwiches. _Plus_ the rabbit Grampa caught."

"Don't forget the spotted dick," Emily added, giggling.

Marty flushed as the titters spread across the group. "Look, Mom just wanted you guys to feel at home! She made crumpets and strawberry tarts too!"

"I know, I know, but. . . ." Emily playfully elbowed Jennifer. "What a dessert to make for a picnic with your fiancee!"

"I don't think Lorraine meant it as a _warning_ , if that's what you're getting at," Jennifer replied, grinning as poor Marty went even pinker. "And honestly, it's pretty good. Though, I have to admit, I don't get the name." She poked her slice with her fork. "I mean – I get the 'spotted' part, that's the raisins. But – uh – well. . .it's – it's not shaped like a–"

"'Dick' is just a slang term for pudding," Christopher put in, not making eye contact. "It's from the same root as 'dough' you see. Why, in Huddersfield, they have regular dick, treacle dick, Christmas dick–"

"You're not making things better, dear," Victoria cut him off, trying to hide her smile as Jennifer and Emily dissolved into laughter.

"Just, ah, explaining the etymology, darling."

Victor allowed himself a couple of awkward chuckles, then turned to Doc, sitting at the very edge of the blanket. "So – how are you doing?"

"Fine," Doc replied, eyes fixed on the horizon.

"Anything of interest out there?" Alice asked, leaning around him for a look.

"Beyond the usual desert scrub? No. Thankfully."

"You _should_ have something to eat, Doc," Marty said, shaking off his blush. "Come on, at least try the watermelon. Being hungry ain't gonna help you with guard duty."

Doc glanced back with a frown, then sighed. "I suppose you're right," he admitted, scooting back to take a slice. "I just – don't want to let my guard down too much."

"Perfectly understandable, after the incident yesterday," Christopher assured him, handing him a napkin. "We may be making merry, but I'm ready to leap into action at a moment's notice if need be."

"Good – I'm just glad that Shonash Ravine isn't where Buford usually sets up camp," Doc said, nodding at the great chasm that yawned nearby. "Otherwise I would have insisted on canceling the picnic." He looked over the group. "Still not entirely sure we should have come this far out. . .but as Seamus and William said, there is safety in numbers."

"And in absurdly complicated guns," Alice added, looking at the modified shotgun lying in Doc's lap.

Doc patted it. "That too."

"I'm sorry I dropped him," Richard said, pulling his hat a little lower over his face.

"It's _fine_ , Richard – I believe we determined yesterday we should have all been much more careful when it came to getting Gordon out of that net," Doc told him. "And if it makes you feel better, I believe your mere presence here should act as an effective deterrent to our two Tannens. Gordon doesn't seem like the bravest of assailants, and Buford – well, he loves violence, but he's already seen that the odds aren't in his favor when he goes up against _you_."

"Perhaps, but he's also seen that I do react to being kicked," Richard pointed out, tapping his leg. "And we didn't do so well when it was two against eight yesterday, did we?"

"Which is where the Terminator comes in," Doc replied, running his finger up the four fanned barrels of the gun. "Nothing like the threat of being sprayed with a combination of ordinary buckshot, rusty nails, broken glass, and shiny new dimes to keep someone off your back."

"Sheesh – how do you even _load_ that?" Jennifer asked, raising an eyebrow.

" _Very_ carefully. I was lucky not to cut myself last night."

Victor froze, a strawberry tart halfway to his mouth. "Last – you – you actually _loaded_ it?" he whispered, eyes wide.

"Holy _shit_ , Doc," Marty said, gaping. "If Mayor Gillin finds out – even if you don't actually _shoot_ it, you're gonna be in some serious shit!"

"I'll weather the storm," Doc replied, face grim. "Apart from the intrinsic value of human life in general, you and Jennifer are getting married in under a week, and we have a pregnant woman among our number. I am _not_ taking _any_ chances."

"Can the pregnant woman?" Alice asked, looking with new eagerness at the weapon. "I've always wanted to see how it actually fired."

Doc frowned at her. "Alice, it's not a toy."

"I know that, but I think this is the first time I've ever even _heard_ of you prepping it for use! You didn't even fully load it against the Queen!" She clasped her hands in front of her, putting on her best doe eyes. "Please? I promise I'll be care–"

"AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHH! HELP! SOMEBODY HELP ME!"

Everyone jumped, plates clattering and drinks sloshing. "What was _that_?!" Richard demanded, scrambling to save his tea from being dumped all over the tablecloth.

"Her!" Victoria cried, pointing.

"What – oh my _God!_ " Emily shrieked, clutching her hands at her mouth.

"Holy shit!" Marty agreed, leaping to his feet.

Victor did the same, following Victoria's finger to see a woman on a buckboard go barreling past. She was in a right state from what Victor could see – skirts in a tangle, hat fallen over her eyes, and desperately yanking with all her might on the reins. Her horses weren't paying her the least attention, however, racing across the landscape as if trying to escape a very-out-of-place lion. "What on earth _happened_ to her?" he wondered, automatically grabbing his tie.

"We can figure that out later!" Doc declared, bolting upright. "She's headed straight for the ravine!"

"Damn it – Doc, Marty, get your horses and come with me!" Christopher ordered, suddenly every inch a military leader. "We'll take either side, see if we can steer the horses another way!"

"On it!" Marty announced, as he and Doc rushed for their faithful steeds.

"Richard, you head for the lip of the ravine – if we can't stop them, you'd be the best one to stop the buckboard plunging over!"

"On my way!" Richard said, snapping off a smart salute before bounding toward the jagged edge of the massive rift.

"Good! The rest of you – _stay here_ ," Christopher said, with a particularly stern glance at Alice. "The last thing we need is to spook those horses more with too many people coming up on them."

"Fair enough," Alice said, holding up her hands. "You get going." They all looked over at a sudden "Hiya!" to see Archimedes galloping away. "If only because Doc's going to have quite the head start on you otherwise."

"Right!" Christopher ran over and vaulted onto his horse. "Come on, Ellie!"

"Hiya!" Marty ordered Huey as they took off. "Hang on, miss! We're coming!"

Emily squeezed her hands together so hard Victor was surprised she didn't accidentally crack the bone. "Oh damn, I hope they get to her in time. . . ."

"Well, Doc's certainly doing his best," Alice said, watching as the scientist and his horse raced to catch up with the runaway buckboard. "Of course, the trouble is now convincing _her_ horses they want to go another way."

"I trust Christopher to do everything he can," Victoria said, watching with her hands clutched at her chest. "And all the others too. . .but goodness, look at that buckboard go! Whatever spooked those horses?"

"My guess? Rattlesnake," Jennifer told her, rubbing her arm. "When I was ten, my horse spotted one on a ride, had a fit, and threw me off. I busted up my entire right side. Had to stay in bed for a month just from the bruises."

"Ouch," Emily winced. "At least you weren't bitten by the snake as well." She chewed a skeletal finger. "Oh, please boys, hurry up. . . ."

The pursuit continued, all parties veering dangerously close to the ravine's edge. Richard ran up and down, waving his arms like windmill blades. "Go! Shoo! Other way! Other way!"

The buckboard horses ignored his antics, intent on their flight from whatever enemies their fevered minds could imagine. Jennifer grimaced as she watched Ellie and Huey desperately try to catch up. "Oh jeez – I don't think Christopher and Marty are gonna make it," she admitted. "Those horses are terrified."

"You can do it, darling!" Victoria called, cupping her hands around her mouth.

"Look at Doc, though!" Victor pointed out. " _He's_ almost to her!"

Indeed, while Ellie and Huey were struggling to reach the buckboard's rear, Archimedes was pulling level with the driver. Doc reached out to her, almost but not quite close enough to touch. "Here! Here!" he called, voice just barely audible over the pounding of hooves.

"Hurry!" the woman pleaded, giving the reins another futile tug.

"Richard!" Christopher yelled, making a grabbing motion for the back of the board and only coming up with a handful of cloth. "Force them to turn!"

"I'm trying!" Richard jumped up and down a few times – then, seeing that was simply not having the effect he wanted, grabbed his hat brim and hit some hidden button. Moments later, a rocket burst out the top, exploding with a shower of multicolored sparks. The overexcited horses screamed and jerked away from the noise and lights – snapping their harness in the process and leaving the buckboard to careen toward the edge. " _No!_ " Emily shrieked, her loose eye popping out.

" _JUMP_!" Doc screamed.

The woman did, leaping from her seat straight into Doc's waiting arms. Christopher made another grab for the back of the buckboard, this time coming away with a bundle tied with twine. Richard whirled out of the way as the buckboard rocketed towards him, managing to snatch a trunk before it passed. Moments later, the vehicle disappeared over the ravine's lip, _crunching_ and _crashing_ against the rocks below. Emily flopped over, letting her head thunk into Victoria's lap. "Oh thank God. . . ."

"That was too close," Victor agreed, wiping his forehead with his sleeve. "J-just a moment, I'll be back. . . ." Patting Alice on the back, he got up and hurried over as Doc, Christopher, and Marty brought their horses to a stop. "Is everyone all right?"

"I think so," Marty said, looking at all the scattered bits of clothing lying on the edge of the drop. "Shit. . .uh, sorry, ma'am. We tried to catch up, but we just couldn't get ahead!"

"Fireworks? Really?!" Christopher demanded of Richard with a scowl. "What did you think would happen?!"

" _You_ said force them to turn!" Richard snapped back, clutching the trunk protectively to their chest. "And they did indeed turn! I didn't expect the buckboard to just break off like that!"

"Every action has an equal and opposite reaction – and obviously, the stress of being flung in two different directions was too much for the harness!" Christopher jabbed a finger at the sky. "Simple physics, Richard! Are you or are you not a scientist?!"

" _No_ , actually! I make hats and you know it!"

"Quit it!" Doc yelled, glaring at both of them. "None of us expected this to end like it did. We don't need you two fighting on top of everything else!" He looked down at his passenger as she settled herself atop his horse. "Are you all right?"

"Yes," the woman said, finally managing to get her hat off her face. "Thank you, sir," she continued, looking up. "You saved my–"

She stopped dead as her eyes met Doc's, an almost visible electric current passing between them. For a long moment, they just stared at each other, apparently utterly gobsmacked by the sight of each other's faces. "Life," the woman finally whispered, as if she'd just received the answer to life, the universe, and everything.

Doc whipped his hat off his head, sitting up a little straighter in the saddle. "Emmett Brown at your service, miss."

"I – I'm–" The woman's hat fell back over her eyes, cutting off their connection and jump-starting her brain. "Clayton!" she cried, pushing it back up. Her voice softened as her eyes met Doc's again. "Clara Clayton."

"Clara," Doc repeated – Victor had never heard him use such a warm, awed tone before. A smile stretched his tanned face. "What a beautiful name."

"Hang on – Clayton?" Marty asked, trotting up beside them. "Are you the new schoolteacher?"

"What? Oh – yes!" Miss Clayton said, tearing her gaze away from Doc with an effort. "Yes, I am." She put a hand to her forehead as the spell dissipated. "Sorry, I'm – I'm just a bit. . .well. . . ."

"Getting over having nearly fallen in a ravine?" Christopher inquired, a sparkle of amusement in his eyes.

Miss Clayton laughed awkwardly. "Yes."

"Wait a minute – if you're the new schoolteacher, then why are you out here alone?" Doc asked, gathering his wits with a frown. "Mr. Statler volunteered to pick you up at the station at our last town meeting."

"Oh, he did," Miss Clayton said, letting out an annoyed sigh. "And then he told me he was terribly sorry, he had important business to attend to, _but_ he did have this very fine buckboard for rent, perhaps if I was interested. . ."

"Oh jeez," Marty muttered, slapping his hand against his face. "Yeah, trust Statler to always put the dollar sign first."

"Joke's on him," Richard commented, looking down into the ravine. "That buckboard isn't going to be for rent again anytime soon."

"To be fair, he _did_ draw me a map," Miss Clayton said, shaking her head. "And I'm the one who took him up on his offer. I probably would have made it to the cabin just fine if that snake hadn't spooked my horses."

"That's exactly what Jennifer thought had happened," Victor put in.

Miss Clayton gave him a funny look. "Jennifer?"

_Oh, right – this poor woman who just escaped death is now surrounded by strangers. And only one's bothered to introduce himself._ "Miss Jennifer Parker – she's, ah, b-back at our picnic," Victor hastily explained, blushing. "We're all friends – I'm Victor Van Dort, and this is Martin McFly, Sir Christopher Lloyd, and Richard Dodgson."

"Sorry about the boom," Richard said, lifting his hat. "I was just trying to make sure you _didn't_ go over. But, as Christopher pointed out, physics."

"It's all right – oh!" Miss Clayton blinked rapidly as she finally turned to actually _face_ Richard. "Er, excuse me. I haven't met anyone quite so – tall before."

Richard grinned. "Or green-skinned? Or mechanical?" he teased. "It's fine, you can gawk a little. I'm used to it."

"I don't want to be rude," Miss Clayton insisted, a little pink. "Besides, you're not the first Automaton I've encountered – though you are the first I've been able to speak to."

" _Technically_ what I am is a 'Mixed Bag' – started out all human, added the mechanics later." Richard glanced back at the picnic, where the ladies were craning their heads for a better view of the proceedings. "And I think our significant others would like to see how you're doing. Care to join us for the end of our picnic?"

"Yeah – we can give you the _proper_ Hill Valley welcome, instead of the Statler version," Marty agreed.

"A moment to settle my nerves _would_ be appreciated," Miss Clayton admitted, fixing her hat so it sat straight on her head. "And to get to know you all better." She gave them all a smile. "Thank you again for helping me."

"We weren't about to let a random woman in distress just ride on by," Doc assured her, in that warm voice again. "We're happy to have you. And I'm sure the ladies will be happy to see you too."

Indeed, Jennifer and Victoria were already on their feet as they walked and trotted back to the cloth. "So, what happened?" Jennifer asked, looking between Doc, Miss Clayton, and Victor.

"Just like you said – snake," Victor explained, as Christopher and Marty tied their horses back up and Doc helped Miss Clayton to dismount. "Apparently this is your new schoolteacher, Miss Clara Clayton."

"Yeah, Statler decided he'd rather make a few bucks than do his civic duty," Marty said, rolling his eyes as he gave Huey a friendly slap on the rump. "Really wish we had somebody else to get horses from around here. . .anyway – Miss Clayton, my fiancee, Miss Jennifer Parker," he added, smiling as he put his arm around Jennifer. "That's Mrs. Victoria Lloyd, and behind them are Mrs. Emily Dodgson and Mrs. Alice Van Dort."

"Forgive me for not getting up, but that's a bit of a project right now," Alice said from her spot on the blanket. "Very glad to see you standing here instead of at the bottom of the ravine."

"I don't think she'd be standing if she'd gone over," Richard remarked, dumping the luggage he'd saved at the edge of the cloth before loping over for another look over the side. "Goodness me, it's like a seamstress's exploded. Petticoats everywhere!"

Miss Clayton winced. "Better those than my limbs," she murmured. "Still, those aren't going to be – oh no! My telescope!"

She rushed to the edge, leaning forward at a dangerous angle – Richard quickly put an arm out across her chest to stop her tipping in. "That was a gift from my father – I _can't_ have lost it!" She braced herself against his arm, standing on tiptoe for a better look at the mess below. "Can you see it? It would be in a long, thin brown case – if it survived the drop. . . ."

"Wait – there's a case like that here!" Emily said, pulling it free from the trunk and holding it up for general inspection.

"Is there?" Miss Clayton turned and looked. "Yes! Oh, thank you!" She darted over, pulling it to her chest. "Forgive me for being a bit overwrought, but – I've had it since I was eleven. One of my most prized possessions."

"Well, I'm glad I was able to retrieve it for you!" Richard declared, coming back over. "An amateur star-watcher then?"

"Yes – though sometimes I think, given how long I've been doing it, I probably know more than a few of the professionals," Miss Clayton admitted, opening the case and gazing lovingly at the shiny brass tube within. "There should be a word between the two extremes, honestly."

"There should! The trouble is coming up with it," Christopher said, sitting down beside Victoria. "Shall we ponder the problem over potato salad? We have three kinds."

"Along with a plethora of other foods," Alice said, waving a hand over what remained of the spread. "You may as well help us eat it."

"As long as you're extending the invitation. . . ." Miss Clayton sat down beside her, tucking her feet under her skirts. "It has been a while since my last meal."

"Mmm – you're sure you're all right?" Victoria asked, biting her lip. "From what we saw, it – it was a very near thing with the buckboard."

"It's certainly not an experience I'd care to repeat!" Miss Clayton confirmed, shuddering. "But I'm all right now, I promise." She gave Doc a warm smile as he straightened out a corner of the cloth near her. "I'm just grateful Mr. Brown was able to catch up to me in time."

"Dr. Brown, actually," Christopher corrected her. "Ph. D. in applied physics, isn't that right?"

"Ages ago in Cambridge," Doc confirmed, sitting down a little closer to Miss Clayton than propriety probably suggested. "You can call me whatever you like – 'Doc' is my nickname in this group, if you want to use that." He glanced away, rubbing his neck. "Or – um – you could call me 'Emmett.' If you don't think it's too forward."

"You just saved my life," Miss Clayton replied, chuckling softly. "I think we're rather past the point of 'forward,' Dr. Brown – Emmett. And you're welcome to call me 'Clara.'"

Doc smiled at her, looking both thrilled and shy at once. "I'd consider it a great honor – Clara."

"How forward is it to say you could call the rest of us by our first names too?" Richard inquired, offering her a cup of lemonade.

"Mm? Oh – it's fine," Miss Clayton said, nodding as she accepted the cup. "Thank you. . .my family was never one to stand on formality. So yes, I can be Clara to all of you, if you wish."

"We're not much for formality either – as you may have already guessed," Alice admitted with a laugh. "Bit of a weird bunch, really."

Clara grinned at her. "Well, I like weird."

"So, are you new to this side of the world?" Emily asked, sliding over what remained of the sandwiches as best she could.

"Yes – I'm actually from New Jersey," Clara confirmed, picking over the platter. "West Orange, to be specific."

"Hey, my Aunt Sylvia and Uncle Arthur live out in New Jersey!" Marty said brightly. "They're from Atlantic City, though, so I doubt you've ever run into them."

"Never had the pleasure." Clara chose a pulled pork sandwich and took a bite. "This is my first big trip away from the state," she added once she was done chewing. "Sort of following in my mother and father's footsteps, in fact. They met on the Oregon Trail – Mother was a frontierswoman from Wyoming looking for adventure, and Father was on one of his butterfly expeditions and joined a wagon train on the hunt for new species."

One of these days, Victor decided, a tart was going to reach his mouth _before_ he learned some new shocking fact about one of his picnic-mates. "Butterfly – wait a moment," he breathed, eyes wide. "Your father isn't – _Daniel Clayton_?"

Clara blinked. "You've – heard of him?"

"Of _course_ I've heard of him!" Victor cried, face bright with enthusiasm. "I read about his discovery of the _Lepidoptera Martha_ in _Interesting Histories of Butterflies and Moths_ right after it was published! Did he _really_ catch the first specimen at his wedding?"

"He did indeed!" Clara said, laughing. "In fact, chasing it down was what introduced him to Mother in the first place! He was trying to net one near a geyser field, and spotted Mother having some trouble with an angry bear. He managed to distract it just long enough for her to get to safety, and afterwards – well, it was love at first sight. They got married just a few days later, the most whirlwind romance on the trip. Father always told me that, when he finally got his hands on one of the butterflies right after the ceremony, it felt like a sign that they were meant to be together."

"Awwwww – that's so _romantic_ ," Emily sighed, hugging herself.

"Certainly beats you just walking into my hat shop one day with a little coaxing from Victor and Victoria," Richard agreed, putting his arm around her.

Emily kissed his cheek. "Oh, I don't know – I think you getting excited over the possibilities in my loose limbs was pretty romantic in its own way." She wiggled her bony fingers. "Besides, I _tried_ whirlwind romance once. Didn't end well."

"Oh – I'm sorry," Clara said softly. "I didn't want to ask – I'm glad you got a second chance, at least."

"Me too. If Sally hadn't spotted my hand sticking up from my grave. . . ." Emily sighed again. "Doesn't bear thinking about."

"That's how my Uncle Ulysses feels about _his_ Reanimation," Clara told her. "He was a Union general in the Civil War who was killed in a rather nasty battle. Fortunately for him, there was a Touched nearby who was practicing her Reanimation skills, and decided all those bodies would be perfect for her purposes." She chuckled. "He's said more than once that it was quite disconcerting going from lying face-down in the mud to face-up on a lady's dining room table – without a shirt."

"Oh dear – at least I still had my dress on when Dr. Finklestein brought me back!" Emily said with a giggle. "Though it did take me an hour to stop screaming."

"Uncle Ulysses needed a while to get his wits together too," Clara nodded.

"So _that's_ why you're so calm about – well, all of this," Christopher remarked, playing with a tart. "You've got personal experience with mad science. Fair warning, you might want to keep your story about your uncle to yourself. We had a rather – _less_ enthusiastic reception from the other townsfolk."

"Yeah, they're not keen on Touched or anything related around here," Marty agreed, rubbing the back of his head. "Guessing it's different in West Orange?"

"Considering it's Mr. Edison's stomping grounds, we've had to get used to the idea," Clara replied, smiling. "Though there's always been a few Touched in the area, according to my parents. Nothing like any of the big cities, I'm sure, but my parents own a mechanical horse, and the streetlights were blown out more than once by enthusiastic experimenters when I was growing up."

Alice laughed. "Sounds like your average evening in Secundus."

"Secundus?" Clara leaned forward, eyes wide. "I caught from your accents that most of you were English, but – even with Mr. and Mrs. Dodgson, I didn't actually think. . .you're from there?"

"Most of us do make our residence there, yes," Christopher confirmed. "You have an interest in the city?"

"Who doesn't? It's the Mad Science Capital of the World!" Clara cried, clasping her hands before her. "The place where anything you might see in a fantasy comes to life! Is it true that they have a restaurant there where food falls from the sky?"

"The Roofless," Victor confirmed, leaning up against his wife. "Alice and I had our first date there."

"We're decent friends with the owner these days," Alice added. "Flint's looking after our house while we're away."

"Golly! It must be something, to be friends with a Touched!"

A telling and amused silence fell over the group. Clara pinched the bridge of her nose as everyone else grinned at each other. "Ah. How many of you?"

"All the menfolk save Marty," Alice informed her, smirking. "Though, really, given what he can do with a guitar, maybe he's Gone Creative and we haven't noticed yet."

"You'd notice," Marty said, a little pink around the ears. "Besides, I've never heard of a 'mad musician' before."

"Didn't you tell us the other day you met Doc because he was doing experiments in sound waves and had the tuning fork you needed?"

". . .okay, yeah, got me there."

"I thought you would have guessed _Victor_ was a Touched because of how enthusiastically he spoke about your father," Emily gently teased.

"I just thought he was interested in butterflies – your specialty, then?" Clara asked Victor.

"I have a whole lab full of new species back home," Victor said proudly, relishing her delighted smile. "Not to mention Ferdinand, my riding butterfly."

"Riding – like a horse?"

"Eh, sort of – you have to keep your legs tucked up," Victor said, shifting position on the blanket to demonstrate. "But it is an amazing way to travel. I was very proud when I finally got that right."

"He branches out into other insects sometimes too," Christopher added. "One of his latest creations stowed away with his dog."

"Yeah, how is the Grasshopper Teapot doing?" Jennifer asked. "And Lightning?"

"They're both fine – Lightning's having the time of his life running around the McFly farm," Victor said with a little smile. "And the Teapot's staying in the barn, which is what we were all hoping for. Seamus is picking up another block of black tea for me to feed it today."

"Staying in the barn?" Clara pouted. "I was rather hoping I could see it."

"Well, if you want to make the trip over to the McFly farm, I'd be happy to show you," Victor assured her. "Just – I can't bring it into town. There was already a close call at the Palace Saloon, and I can't risk another one."

"Yes, saying 'not keen' before regarding our town's feelings toward mad science was probably an understatement," Doc admitted, running his fingers through his hair. "The average citizen of Hill Valley isn't fond of Touched – and the mayor _hates_ them. Mostly because Marty and I had an – _incident_ , three years back. Something of mine got out of control and caused a lot of property damage, I'm ashamed to say."

"Yeah – that's actually how we _know_ everybody here," Marty added. "Doc and I hightailed it to Secundus to give Mayor Gillin a chance to calm down and everybody else a chance to rebuild. Doc set up a repair shop over there, and we started making friends." He glanced at Victor and snorted. "Or accidentally kidnapping them."

"That was the best thing that ever happened to me and you know it," Victor replied, poking him.

Clara looked between them, one eyebrow raised. "How do you _accidentally_ kidnap someone?"

"Four easy steps," Doc informed her, counting them down on his fingers. "One – take your newly-converted flying train on a test drive and land it in the forest just outside his hometown. Two – leave the train unattended and go for a look around where it is you are, not considering the fact someone being chased by childhood bullies might stumble across it, accidentally knock out the rope ladder you installed for situations where you can't land the train itself, and then hide in fear when you finally return. Three – obliviously start up the train without realizing the young man is trying to sneak away and has gotten his foot caught in said ladder, and accidentally take him with you when you take off. Four – fly all the way back to Secundus, and by some miracle don't _land_ on him when you park your train on the roof."

"I had a _lot_ of incentive to get out of the way, and it lands slowly enough that I had the time," Victor told him. "Also, you missed out step five – take him inside, give him some biscuits and tea, impress him with your scientific prowess, and then offer him a job the moment it seems like he might want to stay."

"Indeed – in case you weren't aware, we're not keen on doing anything the 'normal' way here," Alice told Clara, with a wiggle of her fingers for the quotes.

"I've gathered that," Clara said, hiding a laugh behind her hand. "Oh my, what a story – you really wanted to stay in Secundus after being dragged across half the country?"

"It wasn't a fun trip," Victor allowed, shivering as the memory of freezing wind and roaring wheels rushed over him. "But Doc and Marty were so kind to me in the aftermath. . .I – I felt I belonged, more than I ever did in Burtonsville. In a weird way, it was like I'd finally come home." He leaned against his wife again, smiling. "And then I met Alice the very next day, and that cemented the decision for me."

"We _all_ benefited from that trip," Victoria nodded, snuggling into Christopher's shoulder. "Victor's parents and mine were arranging our marriage around the time he was taken, so when his parents went chasing after them, they convinced my family to accompany them. By the time we arrived, he'd already fallen in love with Alice, but I still wanted to continue a friendship – mostly because I was almost as intrigued by the city as he was. And going to see him at the shop led directly to me meeting Christopher." She grinned up at her husband. "It didn't take us long at all to make a connection, did it?"

"Our first train ride together was quite something," Christopher agreed, pulling her close. "Years upon years of bachelorhood, ended in one fell swoop."

"And shortly after that, _I_ met Victor when he, Doc, and Marty came to Castle Finklestein to do some repairs," Emily put in. "I'd been holing myself up there after my Reanimation, just – sort of waiting for my true love to show up and propose out of the blue. I surprised Victor at the piano in the front hall, and – after a bit of awkward flirting, which he quickly but politely shot down – he convinced me to get out into the city a bit more. He ended up escorting me on a trip to Richard's hat shop, and the rest is history!"

"Not all of it," Richard said, kissing the top of her head. "A good portion of it is the future too."

Clara squeezed her hands together. "Oh, that's all so sweet," she breathed. "It really does make one wonder if destiny is a thing." She pushed back the brim of her hat with a slightly-nervous giggle. "Though, ah, I have to admit, it took me a second to start listening again after the words 'newly-converted flying train!'"

A ripple of laughter spread through the group. "It's all right," Victor assured her, brushing back his bangs. "Listening to Doc describe how he made it was one of the things that convinced me to stay in Secundus, after all!"

"Yeah, it's Doc's baby," Marty confirmed. "He can tell you all about it."

"What it is, is magnetic levitation on a grand scale," Doc said, beaming. "And using the earth's own field instead of specially-made tracks or anything like that. Took _months_ to perfect, but the results were more than worth it." He raised a finger. "My _ultimate_ aim, though, is to convert it into a time machine."

Clara gasped. "A time machine? But I thought – everything I've read on the subject says that it would take all the energy in the known universe to push a single object back in time!"

"I know, and that holds up with most of the theoretical methods of time travel I've seen explored," Doc nodded. "But I believe I've found a loophole – or, rather, a _wormhole_. They're natural tunnels of space and time that occur in the far reaches of the universe, typically around black holes. Obviously, it would take more manpower and time to try and reach one of the ones out in space than would be worth the trip – _but_ , if one could be created and manipulated here on Earth, by artificial means. . ." He leaned toward her, eyes bright. "If my calculations are correct, a mere 1.21 gigawatts of energy – no more than you'd find in a decent bolt of lightning – would be able to, if properly focused and released, temporarily tear open the fabric of time and space, creating a wormhole that a passenger vehicle could pass through. If it was going fast enough, of course – baseline, from what I can see, is 88 miles per hour. So you've got to have a vehicle that can handle that speed, _and_ the energy cost, _and_ whatever dangers you might run into outside your own time period. Hence my usage of a very heavily modified steam train. Honestly, the trip that resulted in us taking home Victor was as much as speed test as anything else. . . ." He waved a hand. "I've _almost_ cracked the code, but – making sure all the parts will survive a burst of energy akin to being hit by lightning, not to mention whatever strain the wormhole itself puts on the train, is tricky, _especially_ in this environment. Not to mention I need a power source that can put out 1.21 gigawatts consistently _and_ safely, which, to a majority of Touched, is unfortunately an oxymoron. Always some little problem getting in the way. . . ."

"It sounds to me like you've done quite enough already," Clara said, aglow with scientific curiosity and thrill. "I never even dreamed that such a thing could be possible – oh, I'd love to travel back to the past, see the untamed wilderness of America as my mother would have seen it. . .oh! Or go to the future! Can you imagine what, say, 2015 might be like?"

"Oh, it would be a technical wonderland, I'm sure," Doc replied, moving a little closer. "I suspect we'll be off steam power by then, and onto something even more powerful and efficient. And we'll probably have colonies on the Moon, and Mars – perhaps all the way out to Pluto!"

"Wouldn't that be something," Clara breathed. "I've wanted to travel through space ever since I first read From The Earth To The Moon."

Victor hadn't thought Doc's face could get any brighter – or any closer to Clara's – but, somehow, he managed. "You've read Jules Verne?"

"I _adore_ Jules Verne! He has such a way with words. . .and you can tell he does his research! The way he described space travel was exactly how all the papers said it was done!" She clasped her hands before her. "Have you ever seen him in Secundus?"

"Oh, I wish I had," Doc said, a wistful look in his eyes. "He's one of my favorite new authors – I've always loved a good scientific romance, and his _Voyages extraordinaires. . ._ oh!" He clapped like a little boy. "Have you read Twenty Thousand Leagues Under The Sea? When that one came out, I couldn't put it down! I felt just like a boy again, wanting to dive under the ocean and meet Captain Nemo!"

"It was an incredible adventure," Clara agreed, giggling like a schoolgirl. "Though my current favorite is actually Around The World In Eighty Days. Perhaps it's not as fantastical as his other books, but I loved all those beautiful descriptions of the other countries. And the romance between Fogg and Aouda is so sweet."

"It is," Doc agreed, smiling. "There's – something to be said for starting a relationship by saving a woman's life."

"Yes," Clara nodded, scooting so close her nose almost brushed Doc's. "There is."

". . .Now would be a bad time to point out _Passepartout_ was the one who _technically_ did most of the work in that rescue, wouldn't it?"

Clara and Doc jerked away from each other, blinking. "W-what?" Clara blurted, then shook her head as she looked over at Richard, who was grinning cheekily. "Oh – yes, I – I suppose he did," she allowed, fixing a loose strand of hair back into place.

"Hey, I think it still works," Marty said brightly. "Fogg was the one who came up with the plan. And the one she was talking to the most afterward. Passepartout never actually made a move, did he?"

"Not that I recall," Doc mumbled, blushing.

"Me either – I'm sorry," Clara added, grabbing a biscuit and crumbling the edges in her hands. "I wasn't trying to ignore the rest of you."

"Oh, it's fine," Alice assured her, a mischievous glint in her eye. "We didn't mean to interrupt your staring contest."

Victor managed to bite back his giggle by taking a chomp out of his tart. Doc shot them both a look. "I was merely sharing some thoughts on a mutual favorite author with Miss Clayton."

"And your personal space," Emily said, teeth gleaming in a Cheshire-wide grin.

"I hardly minded," Clara retorted, before giving Doc a little smile. "You're quite the speaker, Emmett."

Doc smiled back, face soft. "You're quite skilled yourself in that area, Clara."

"Much as I would love to let you two talk Jules Verne all afternoon, my watch says we need to start packing up if we're going to make it back to the McFly farm before nightfall," Christopher commented, consulting said timepiece. "Especially as we have stops along the way. It's moments like these where I truly miss mechanical carriages."

"I do too, but the moment I suggest mounting a perfectly ordinary engine on a perfectly ordinary wagon. . . ." Doc sighed. "I can understand Gillin's anxieties regarding the train, but still. A few mechanical improvements to the town wouldn't really hurt, would they?"

"West Orange hasn't been wiped off the map yet," Clara agreed, frowning. "Or Secundus, for that matter! Even that attempted takeover by the Queen of Hearts didn't last more than a day!"

Victor promptly wished that, for once, he'd been interrupted _before_ taking another bite. He choked briefly on his tart, before managing to croak out, "Y-you – you k-know about that?"

"Er, yes – third-hand through the local paper, admittedly, but. . . ." Clara leaned over him, concerned. "Are you all right?"

_Hands shaking, head pounding, his entire body about to split in two as_ something _tore into his very being – why does it hurt why does it hurt why does it_ hurt _. . .then the pain gone in an instant, dragging sanity along with it, leaving him aloft on manic glowing energy, a thousand ideas coursing through his head – I can do anything I_ will _do anything_ nothing _is beyond my grasp. . .and then a scream piercing his ears, joy flipping abruptly to_ rage _, how_ dare _you harm what is_ mine _, how_ dare _you look down upon_ me _, how_ dare _you exist in_ my _realm, I will show you I will show you_ all _– followed by the glint of a syringe, a bulging vein, thousands of black legs tearing through flesh, ripping and chewing and so much_ screaming –

A firm arm wrapped around his shoulders, dragging him back to the present. Victor pressed hard on his eyes, sucking in a deep breath as he pulled away from the whirling maelstrom at the center of his brain. "Yes," he lied, as Alice stroked his upper arm. "Just – b-bad memories."

"Oh dear – I'm sorry, I didn't consider that you were probably caught up in the middle of it," Clara admitted, hands pressed to her mouth.

"Yeah, uh. . . ." Marty glanced at Victor – he nodded, glad for someone else to drop the inevitable bomb. "It was a little more than that. Victor – Victor was the one to kill her."

Clara's eyes went round. "You – what? _You_ were the new Touched the paper said took her down?"

"She kidnapped me during her rampage, and I was – already on the verge of going Creative," Victor confessed, leaning against Alice for support. "The added stress pushed me over the edge right in the middle of her lair. And when my friends came in to rescue me. . .I – I overheard her fighting with Alice while writing down ideas, and I. . .I just got so – so _angry_ that. . . ." He shook his head, refusing to look her in the eye. "You don't want the details. Trust me, you don't."

"I won't ask," Clara promised, worrying her lip. "I'm sorry I brought it up. I had no idea. . . ."

"Of course you wouldn't, if they didn't report his name," Victoria said gently. "But it wasn't a fun day for any of us."

"Yeah – it's thanks to Victor we all made it through in one piece," Marty confirmed, patting his shoulder.

"We lost some good people that day – and some bad ones," Christopher added. "It was a dark time in the city's history. But we've picked up the pieces and moved on. The Queen is little more than a bad memory now."

"I'm glad. I've always loved the stories coming out of Secundus, and wanted go visit one day," Clara said. "I don't like the idea of it being destroyed. On missing out on meeting all of you." She glanced over at Shonash Ravine, yawning wide not too far away. "And not just because I'd be at the bottom of _that_ otherwise."

A ripple of laughter went through the group, dissipating the tension. "We're glad of that too," Doc assured her. "Though, speaking of which, we _do_ need to retrieve your horses. Can't leave them to just wander the desert!"

"I'll take care of it," Richard said, hopping to his feet. "My fault anyway for scaring them like I did. Back in a jiffy!"

"Take your time," Jennifer told him, shooting Doc and Clara a sneaky grin. "We'll be packing up the picnic."

"Yes – thank you!" Clara called as he jogged off. "Thank you all. You've all been so kind of me. I really appreciate it."

"No trouble at all," Doc said, the very image of the gallant cowboy as he helped her to her feet. "And once he's back with the horses, we can deliver you to your destination."

"Oh, I'm sure I can find it on my own–"

"No one's doubting your competence, Clara," Alice cut in, packing up plates. "But I don't think anyone at this picnic wants to see you running off alone just yet. Not mention, are you _sure_ you know where you need to go? Mr. Statler may have given you a map, but I wouldn't be surprised if you lost that and your sense of direction to the snake, along with the majority of your luggage."

"Fair enough," Clara admitted, stooping to help stack cups. "I _did_ get more than a bit turned about when the horses bolted. I know what I'm looking for – a cottage by a schoolhouse – and I'm sure I'd stumble upon it eventually, given how flat this place is, but. . . ."

"But how about you let a couple of the locals get you there safely?" Marty asked. "Trust me, it's no problem."

"Certainly not," Victoria nodded. "We all want to see you get to your destination in one piece."

Clara smiled, ducking her head. "Thank you. Seriously, you're far too kind."

"We do our best," Doc told her, loading leftovers into the basket. "And I'll personally make sure Statler recompenses you for the buckboard rental – _and_ your lost things." He sighed. "You know, it's funny – when we had that meeting to decide who was going to pick you up from the station, I was the first to volunteer. But Mayor Gillin shot me down right away. Said I'd give you the complete wrong impression of Hill Valley."

Clara snorted. "Really. Being a scientist, a gentleman, and saving my life is the wrong impression."

"Well, let's be fair to him – I wouldn't have had to do the latter, if he'd just let me go get you at the station."

"True," Clara allowed. She picked up the plate of spotted dick and handed it to him, gloved fingers brushing his. Doc sucked in a breath as he froze, eyes wide. "Now – I'm almost glad that snake spooked those horses. It really does make it feel like us meeting was – destiny."

Doc had no answer to that but a soulful stare – not that Clara seemed to mind. "Oh dear, and here we go again," Alice murmured in Victor's ear as the pair got lost in each other's gaze again. "Suddenly I have a lot more sympathy for everyone around us back when we first met. Remember when we bumped into each other in Wonderland Park, and we started outright gawking at each other when I accidentally touched your hand?"

"Oh yes," Victor said, turning to grin at her. "I just wasn't used to any young lady actually touching me, skin to skin. . .and then I got lost in the most beautiful pair of green eyes I'd ever seen."

Alice flushed pink. "Stop making me blush – we've been married for two years," she muttered, poking him in the shoulder.

"Never," Victor retorted, ruffling her hair. Glancing back at Doc and Clara, still happily frozen in place, he added, "But yes, I see what you mean. We must have looked just like that to all our friends every time it happened."

"Mmm – perhaps a little less syrupy."

"Oh no," Emily said, leaning in with a smirk. " _Just_ as syrupy, I can assure you. You can pretend all you like that you're nothing but spice, Alice. We know the truth – around Victor, it all turns to sugar."

"You two were just as adorable," Victoria agreed, before giving them her own cheeky smile. " _Are_ just as adorable."

"I'm pregnant – I'm incapable of being adorable," Alice mock-pouted. "You two just have too much romance in your soul."

"Yes, well, you've met my husband," Emily retorted. " _Someone_ has to make up for his lack."

"Found 'em!"

Right on cue, Richard reappeared, proudly leading two rather confused and tired-looking horses. "They hadn't gone far, luckily," he reported, patting the nose of the left one. "Wore themselves out with all that stampeding, I'm sure. Found them devouring some of the scrub nearby."

"Yes, I'm sure the poor things are hungry – and thirsty," Christopher said, getting up. "Marty, pass me that pitcher, will you?"

Marty handed it over. "So, are we gonna hook 'em up to our wagon beside the other two, or. . . ?"

"I could _try_ to improvise a harness, but I think they're docile enough now that we could just lead them alongside," Christopher replied, offering the pitcher to the horse on the right. It stuck its snout inside and started drinking. "In fact, I'm willing to ride one – even if they do get spooked again, I should able to stop any disasters."

"How about I take one and you take the other?" Victoria suggested. "That way we can be sure they won't wander off or get frightened."

"Capital idea, darling. And I can lead Ellie along with us."

"Is there anything you want to see if I can grab from over there before we go?" Victor asked Clara as they continued packing up the picnic. "I've got long arms, I might be able to pick up something light."

Clara frowned. "Only if you're sure you won't fall in. I don't know how stable that edge actually is."

"Fairly stable, honestly – but she's right," Doc added, wagging a finger at Victor. "No unnecessary risks."

"You're lecturing the man who buried me in pillows to keep me from getting up too much while pregnant," Alice pointed out. "I think he knows his limits."

"Thank you – I think," Victor said, shaking his head. "I just would like to help. It's rather a shame so much of your luggage went over the edge."

"Better it than me," Clara said, before letting out a nervous giggle as her fingers brushed Doc's again. "But I suppose if you want to see if you can retrieve a petticoat or two. . . ."

"I'll do my best," Victor promised. He kissed Alice's cheek. "Won't be long."

"Want me to come and sit on your feet as a counterbalance?" Alice joked.

"How panicky do you think I'll get if my pregnant wife goes and sits by a large ravine?"

"True – I don't have any of your climbing skills at the moment," Alice admitted, with a glance at her bump. "I'll limit myself to helping load the baskets."

"Sounds good." Victor jogged over to the jagged edge of the break in the earth, getting on his belly before peeping over the edge. Most of Clara's things had been battered to pieces on the rocks, with book pages and dress scraps scattered along the sloping edges. But there was one intact dress that was just within reach, along with a couple of petticoats and a corset. Victor squirmed over and plucked them off the rocks. A little more investigation netted him a small pot and what looked like a dressing gown. "Guess that's about it," Victor murmured, wrapping the clothes around the pot in a loose bundle. "At least it's better than nothing. . . ."

He returned to the group to find the picnic almost completely sorted, with Christopher giving Victoria a refresher in riding bareback while the others loaded the blanket, baskets, and the retrieved luggage into the wagon. As was rapidly becoming usual, Doc and Clara were close together, supposedly helping move things but spending most of their time gazing into each other's eyes – at least, until the inevitable interruption by one of the others. He laughed softly as they broke apart again in response to a cough from Christopher, blushing. _Oh dear – no, Emily, I think Alice is right in this particular instance. It took us a_ bit _more time than just one afternoon to get_ that _syrupy. Especially since it took me forever to admit to her I was in love._

"Oh – are you sure you can handle that?"

"I'm _fine_ , Clara. I'm only lifting the lighter things, see?"

Victor shifted his gaze to see Alice near the couple, clutching a bundle of clothes with a frown. "I'm not an invalid," she continued. "I wouldn't be out here if I couldn't take some exercise."

"Be that as it may, I don't want you to strain yourself," Clara insisted, coming over to lend a hand. "You've got more than just yourself to worry about."

"The baby is fine too. Look, here." Alice caught Clara's hand as she reached for the bundle and redirected it to her belly. "See? Trying to kick their way out to help. Trust me, I know what I'm capable of." She looked over, eyes meeting Victor's. "And everyone else does too."

Victor nodded, a warm, gooey feeling settling over him as he smiled back at her. "We do." _Me more than anyone. . .oh, am I ever glad I_ did _admit my feelings to her. That we progressed to syrup. This absolute wonder, wanting to spend her life with a man like me. . .I really am lucky._

An elbow abruptly introduced itself to his side. "Hey, hey – don't _you_ start getting distracted now! You've already been married two years! The mooning phase is over!"

Victor started, then gave Marty an embarrassed grin. "Sorry. Just. . . ." He glanced back as Alice put the clothing in the wagon, under Clara's supervision. "Reminded again how wonderful it is to have someone like _that_ in your life."

Marty watched as Jennifer joined them, adding the basket full of dishes. "Yeah," he said, tone softer. "It's something, isn't it?" His gaze drifted left, to where Doc was standing by the horses, stuck in a loop of fixing his collar, glancing at Clara, and then fixing it again. "I think Doc's learning that right now."

"I noticed," Victor whispered, grinning. "And here's me, certain he was going to be a lifelong bachelor. . .then again, I thought I was going to be one too." He shot Alice another smile. "Just goes to show how much can change when the right person comes into your life."

"You don't have to tell me." Marty rolled up the blanket and hoisted it onto his shoulder. "Hey, Doc! I think we're ready here!"

"What? Oh! Right!" Doc clapped his hands together. "All right, so it's agreed – Christopher and Victoria will take the buckboard horses and Ellie, Richard will drive the wagon, and Marty will follow on Huey?"

"I'm happy with that arrangement so long as everyone else is," Christopher nodded.

"I feel capable of driving a wagon," Richard nodded. "In fact, I feel capable of pulling the darn thing myself and giving the horses a rest. They've all had a busy day!"

"Kind thought, but I don't think there's room back here," Alice said with a laugh. "So best to let them do their job, I think. We'll reward them handsomely once we're back home."

"Right – sorry, you two," Richard said, patting the wagon horses in turn. "I tried." He clambered onto the driver's bench. "So, where to?"

"Due east to start with," Doc said, pointing. "Marty will show you the rest of the way." He climbed into the wagon, then tipped his hat to Clara, offering her a hand up. "Ready for a hopefully less dangerous adventure?"

Clara giggled as she accepted it. "Anything that doesn't involve a snake is good with me."

"I'm sure," Emily said, getting up after her. "You think it's likely to happen twice in one day, Jennifer?"

"Eh – there's plenty of snakes out here, but I think most of them are gonna get out of the way of a wagon," Jennifer said, accepting a boost from Marty. "We should be fine."

"Good." Victor assisted Alice in, then got up himself, handing his little bundle to Clara. "A couple more clothes and a pot – that was all I could reach."

"You put yourself to enough trouble just for this," Clara assured him with a nod. "And I do appreciate it."

"We all set back there?" Richard asked, looking over his shoulder.

"Hang on. . . ." Marty gave the blanket an extra shove, then rounded the wagon and hopped onto Huey. "All right – we're set!"

"Great!" Richard cracked the reins. "Giddyap, you two!"

The two horses snorted, then set off at a reasonable trot, Marty beside them to give directions while Christopher and Victoria brought up the rear. Fortunately, the ride to the schoolhouse and the nearby cottage proved to be a reasonably short trip – a fact Victor was extremely grateful for as the sun continued to beat down on them. "Thank God for Marston Suncream," he mumbled as they pulled up in front of the tiny house. "I'd be as red as a freshly-boiled lobster otherwise."

"Even _I'm_ starting to feel it," Emily admitted, fanning herself with her hand. She grinned at the cottage. "But what a lovely little place! It even has a white picket fence!"

"You don't usually get those with log cottages," Alice remarked, tilting her head.

"Indeed – should have been brown pickets," Richard agreed. "But it does seem cozy! What do you think, Clara?"

"Oh, it'll suit me fine," Clara said, leaning around Doc for a look. "Makes me feel like I'm truly following Mother's footsteps here – building myself a home in the wilderness. Or, well, renting it, but still. Close enough, right?"

"Close enough," Jennifer agreed. "Now all you have to do is survive the little hellions that pass for children around here."

"Oh, I'm sure I can handle them," Clara replied, with a sharp smile. "The children in New Jersey showed me no mercy, and I got _them_ to read, write, and do sums."

"I hope we have your luck dealing with our eventual little one," Alice said, patting her belly. "But how about we get all your things inside before we start worrying about the school?"

"Capital idea," Doc said, clambering out of the wagon and helping Clara over the side (and holding her hand for perhaps a moment longer than necessary). He opened the gate for her and swept out his hand. "After you."

"Charmed," Clara said, giggling. She opened up the front door and took a peek inside the house as Richard and Christopher came around to the wagon to fetch the luggage they'd saved. "Oh, yes, this'll be perfect," she confirmed, before coughing and waving her hand in front of her face. "After I give it a dusting."

"A real shame I couldn't bring along my suction cleaner," Christopher said, coming up behind her with a bundle of clothes. "Though – if you have a bellows, a brush, a bag, and a length of pipe in your things, I _might_ be able to make you up a hand-operated version."

"Bag and I _think_ the hairbrush," Clara said, glancing at her trunk as Richard lugged it over. "A bellows and a pipe, no. A shame – I would have loved to see you at work!"

"I'd suggest trying my workshop, but – well, I don't dare antagonize Mayor Gillin," Doc sighed. "He's made it quite clear he's willing to throw you all out on the slightest pretext, after all. Let's not give him one."

"A real shame – it's a _wonderful_ Invention," Victoria told Clara. "Why, the Queen herself owns the very first model!"

"Mostly because I built said first model in the basement of Buckingham Palace, and it proved too heavy to make mobile," Christopher confessed, laughing. "Though given the head maid _begged_ me not to dismantle it after my initial demonstration, obviously, no one really minded. So they have one big suction engine and collection bag with a plethora of long hoses attached." He grinned. "On my last visit to Her Majesty, the head butler told me the staff had nicknamed it 'The Octopus.'"

"How much of a temptation is it to paint it green and put fake suckers all over the hoses now?" Victor asked knowingly.

"A _terrible_ one. Good thing I don't have to service it often."

Clara snorted. "Oh, that's wonderful. I wish I could see _everything_ you've all made. You all seem to have such amazing Inventions!"

"Unfortunately, it's either all back in England, or the sort of thing that would get us kicked out of Hill Valley before the wedding," Richard told her. "I mean, we could try and build a couple of things for you _after_ the wedding, maybe. Wouldn't matter if we got kicked out _then_."

"I kinda don't want my honeymoon to start with seeing my best friends exiled from my hometown," Marty informed him, before shooting a grin at Clara. "Buuuut, we _do_ still have a couple of Doc's old Inventions bumming around his workshop in town. You should stop by once you're settled in." He nudged his friend. "I'm sure Doc would _love_ to show you around."

"Oh – ah, yes," Doc agreed, looking at Clara with stars in his eyes. "Quite."

"I'd be delighted," Clara said, her gaze locking with his.

And, once again, the seconds began to stretch on as they gazed at each other. Alice shook her head at the others in fond exasperation, then loudly cleared her throat, making the pair jump. "Speaking of domiciles, we _do_ have to get back to the McFly one eventually. So now that we've confirmed you have a house, Clara, perhaps we should start putting your things in it?"

"Right, yes," Clara said, bright pink as she backed up to clear the doorway. "If you could just bring my trunk and those bundles in, I can take care of actually putting everything away. . .and could I trouble you to take those horses back to Mr. Statler?"

"No trouble at all," Doc promised her, tipping his hat. "We'll be passing through town anyway."

"In my opinion, you should probably keep one just so you can get around," Christopher said.

"Unless you find a horse hiding in there," Richard added, poking his head in for a look.

"I doubt it – and if I do, I don't think it'll be keen on me trying to ride it." Clara looked between the two horses that had been left at her fence. "I suppose they're both pretty much the same. . . ."

"For what it's worth, I found mine to be a very smooth ride," Victoria offered up. "Though I'm not much of a horsewoman."

"I have more experience, and found mine to perform adequately," Christopher said. "I think you'd be fine with either."

"I'll take yours, then," Clara said, nodding at Victoria. "I do know how to ride, but given everything that happened today. . .I want the most docile animal I can get."

"Fair enough," Victoria nodded. "We'll tell Mr. Statler."

"And make sure he doesn't come after you for the bill for that buckboard," Doc promised, helping Richard lug the trunk inside. He worried his lip as he straightened up. "You're _sure_ you'll be all right here? We could stay a moment – help you unpack."

"Thank you, but you've done more than enough," Clara assured him. Glancing back at the assembled company in and around the wagon, she added, "And your friends have hinted more than once that you have to be off."

"Yeah, sorry – hate to just leave you here, but we don't want to get caught out in the desert in the middle of the night," Marty said with a little nod. "But hey, like I said, you're welcome to stop by the blacksmith's shop in Hill Valley any time – Doc's always there, and the rest of us generally are too. And if you want to drop by the McFly farm one day, I'm sure my mom would be happy to have you for supper."

"That's very kind of you." Clara clasped her hands to her chest, beaming. "I'm so glad I got the chance to meet you all."

"We're glad to have met you!" Richard replied, holding out a hand. "Though it would have been nicer if it hadn't involved you potentially falling to your death."

"Perhaps, but still. I hope to see you all again soon." Clara shook his hand, then Christopher's, then Doc's. "You said you were staying here how long again?"

"Until September eighth," Victor filled in for her. "Just long enough for Marty and Jennifer's wedding."

"We don't think Mayor Gillin will tolerate us lingering any longer," Alice added. "Though Doc isn't going anywhere, I assure you."

"Good," Clara said, getting another blush out of their friend. "I'll certainly come and see you all again before you go." She gave the group still in the wagon a wave. "Congratulations on the upcoming nuptials! And the baby."

"Thank you!" Jennifer said, waving back.

"Thank you," Alice echoed, doing the same.

"Yeah, thanks," Marty agreed. "And good luck with the teaching."

"Mmm – hopefully we'll meet again soon," Emily said.

"Right," Doc said, slowly backing toward the gate. Then, obviously feeling that wasn't enough for whatever reason, added, "Toodleloo."

Victor hastily hid a giggle behind his hand. Clara laughed and waggled her fingers at him. " _Hasta luego_ , Emmett."

Doc nodded, as bright pink as Victor had ever seen him, then fled for the wagon. Richard and Christopher followed, shouting a few final farewells as they got themselves situated and started the ride back to the farm. "So – _toodleloo_?" Marty asked, grinning, as they set off.

"It's a perfectly cromulent word!" Doc protested, not meeting his eyes. "I just – she didn't seem to mind, did she?"

"Yeah, I'll give you that." Marty smirked over at Jennifer, keeping easy pace with the wagon. "Should we tell Reverend Warwick to keep his schedule open after he hitches us?"

Victor hadn't thought _anyone_ could turn redder than him when he was embarrassed, but Doc was giving it the good old Unseen University try. "What – I – i-it's not like that at all!" he babbled, pulling his hat down over his eyes. "Clara – _Miss Clayton_ is merely – _nice_ , that's all."

"Oh balderdash," Christopher declared from atop Ellie, reins of the remaining buckboard horse in hand. "She is a lovely lady, granted, but we all saw the way she was looking at you."

"And the way _you_ were looking at _her_ ," Emily sing-songed, leaning over with a grin.

"You got it bad, Doc," Jennifer agreed.

"I – I was just trying to be gentlemanly," Doc muttered from under his brim. "And Clara –well, she did have quite a scare, right? After all, she almost ended up at the bottom of Shonash Ravine."

"I don't think a near-death experience causes any woman to look at a man like that," Alice said, folding her arms. "Even if he _has_ just saved her life."

"I haven't seen so many dreamy staring contests since Victor and Alice were mooning over each other," Richard agreed.

"Oh yes – and they were much worse than we ever were. At the very least, I don't think Victor and I goggled at each other so many times in a row."

"We – we just get along well," Doc said, finally pushing up his hat to peep out at them. "It's not like she didn't have any long conversations with the rest of you."

"Oh, that was just simple scientific curiosity!" Richard declared, waving a hand. "Not much different from any of us talking to Victor when he first arrived in Secundus! Granted, we're not in Secundus now, and Clara's a woman, and we met her via saving her from a tragic fate versus you accidentally kidnapping Victor from his hometown. . .okay, it's _very_ different, but you get my meaning. The underlying principle of thinking Touched are interesting and wanting to know as much about them and their favorite city from as many sources of information as possible is the same!"

"And the way she kept smiling at you, all aglow. . . ." Emily sighed, letting her head flop onto her shoulder. "You need to ask her out."

"I _what_?!"

"I know, I know, she's bound to come by the shop sooner or later, but that's not really a _date_ ," Emily continued, ignoring Doc's stares. "There _must_ be a place to go out to dinner in Hill Valley! Maybe the Palace Saloon?"

"Aaaah – nooo," Marty said, grimacing. "That's, uh, not the most romantic place in the world."

"Perhaps not, but it seemed well-kept enough when we were there," Victoria said, frowning. "As long as those three men sitting in the corner aren't there at all hours. . . ."

"Eh, they spend a _lot_ of time there – but what Marty was talking about was the second-floor ladies," Jennifer said, making a face as she twisted a lock of hair around her finger. "They – they don't go on dates, but they _do_ see a lot of men. . .I mean, I don't think they'd get in the _way_ , but I don't know if they'd set the right mood either."

"Oh!" Victoria shared a shocked look with Emily. "Oh dear – no, then, you're right. Surely there's other things you could do together, though. I mean – Jennifer, you and Marty have been together for _years_. What do you do when you go out?"

"Usually either hang around Doc's, talking, or ride around on the Parker Ranch so Dad can keep an eye on us." She shrugged. "Our families are past the point of really caring about chaperones for us, but – Dad still worries."

"Ah. I guess the shop _is_ their best option, then," Victoria informed Emily. "Though perhaps if we offered a home-cooked meal of our own?"

"That might work," Emily agreed with a nod. "She _did_ seem quite interested in his Inventions. And we know meeting Richard at his shop worked out very well for _me_ , so. . . ."

"Could you both please stop planning a first date I haven't even _offered_ yet?" Doc snapped, glaring at both of them. "Look, I – I will admit that, from first impressions, Clara is an amazing, wonderful woman. And I _would_ very much like to get to know her better. Perhaps even court her. But. . . ." He sighed, chewing on his lower lip. "Everyone – how old would you say she is?"

Everyone glanced at each other. "Uh – about thirty?" Marty guessed. "That sound right to everybody?"

"Would have been my guess," Alice agreed.

"I was thinking a range of – twenty-eight to thirty-four," Richard admitted, squinting up at the sky for a moment. "So yeah, thirty would have been close to the midpoint."

"Right, thirtyish," Doc nodded. "And how old am _I_?"

Victor made a face, thinking he could already see where this was going. "Sixty-eight this October, right?"

"Correct. So, tell me – how many women do _you_ know who would flirt with men old enough to be their father?"

One hand instantly shot up. "Ahem," Victoria said with a tiny smile. "I'm twenty-two, my dear husband is forty-seven?"

"Be forty-eight soon enough, but the point stands," Christopher said, grinning at Doc.

"And Richard and I – er, well, I guess our age difference is a bit trickier to work out," Emily said, frowning at her skeletal hand. "I died at 18, but I've been Reanimated for a while now. . . ."

"And I started making myself a Mixed Bag at twenty-five, and kind of lost track of the years since," Richard admitted, rubbing the back of his head. "Though you said you were a contemporary of the elder Van Dorts and Everglots, didn't you? I should be roughly the same age. . .so maybe, if we'd met naturally, there would be no age difference at all?"

"The point is, love shouldn't care about age – or anything else, for that matter," Victoria said, steering the conversation back on course. "And for what it's worth, you are a very hale and hearty sixty-seven."

"If it wasn't for the white hair, I wouldn't guess you to be any older than Christopher," Victor agreed. "I bet Clara would be very surprised to discover you're pushing seventy."

"Well – even so," Doc muttered, shaking his head. "She _might_ rethink her attractions once she learns that little fact. Or as she gets to know me better." He looked off into the distance. "I've never – had much luck with women."

"Ah yes – the gold digger who dumped you the moment your father disowned you for being a Touched, and the Dean's daughter who turned out to be cheating on you with your worst academic rival throughout the relationship," Christopher said, biting his lip. "I'd almost forgotten."

"Right. . .I can see why you'd be a bit hesitant, then," Emily allowed. "But – well, I was _murdered_ by the man I thought would be the love of my life. And I bounced back! Surely you can push through a little heartbreak?"

"I'd like to," Doc said, taking off his hat and circling it in his hands. "I truly would. She's like – like no woman I've ever met before. The moment I met her eyes – for the first time, I _understood_ what everyone says about feeling sparks. But – damn it, I thought _Jill_ was sincerely interested in me too. Thought we had something special. Then I said 'no' to her father about some projects I found objectionable, and suddenly there she was, with Donald. . . ." He sucked in a deep breath, before letting it out in a heavy sigh. "I don't want to go through that again."

"Well, the only other contender we currently know of for Clara's affections is Mr. Statler," Richard remarked. "And if he was hoping to start a romance with her, nearly sending her into a ravine via rented buckboard is _definitely_ not the way to go about it."

Doc snorted. "No. . .I don't think Statler has a romantic bone in his body, honestly. At least not where money is concerned. But that actually leads me to my next point – she didn't come here to find a husband, she came here to pursue her career. And the whole reason we _need_ a schoolteacher is because Miss Johnston became Mrs. Steenburgen."

"Aw, shit," Marty said, slapping himself upside the head. "The whole reason she left was because she got married!"

"I had a day-school teacher back in Oxford leave my class because she was getting married too," Alice confirmed. "I know it's not really seen as right for a married woman to still work in places like this. . .but on the other hand, Hill Valley is a _dinky_ little town. Do you think they'd _force_ her to leave the position if she became romantically involved? So soon after hiring her?"

"With anyone else? They might look the other way, at least until they could secure someone else. With _me_?" Doc made a face. "Every parent would be up in arms immediately. _She_ may not care that I'm a Touched, but the majority of Hill Valley, including the man who hired her, _does_. And judging by what she said, she's been a schoolteacher for quite some time. Do I really want to put her in the position of having to choose between a fruitful career she enjoys, and me?"

"Ugh." Emily folded her arms, leaning forward with a pout. "That's fair – I don't know if I'd want to put someone in that spot either. You two were just getting on so well. . . ."

"Let's consider the fact that we also _just_ met too," Doc said, shaking his head. "You are all making a _lot_ of assumptions based on one conversation."

"And one life-saving," Jennifer replied.

"And multiple staring contests," Victor couldn't help adding.

Doc coughed. "Yes, fine. . .how about we take it slow and see if she wants to be _friends_ first? Some pleasant conversation between us shouldn't besmirch her reputation _too_ much. She _is_ the first schoolteacher we've had in some months – she should be allowed a liberty or two. And I certainly wouldn't mind just having someone else to talk to after the rest of you leave. No offense, Marty."

"None taken," Marty assured him. "But hey – what if she makes it clear she _is_ interested in romance? I thought she was getting awfully flirty once we got her to her cabin."

"We'll leave that decision in her court," Doc decided. "She seems like a smart woman – she can weight up the risks and rewards of getting involved with me. And if she decides the latter outweighs the former, and makes a move indicating she'd like to court. . . ." He ran his fingers through his hair, fluffing it up. "Er – any advice?"

"Don't trap her in an armchair with pillows because you're worried about her comfort, because you'll never hear the end of it," Victor deadpanned.

Alice thwapped his arm as laughter flowed through the group. "Seriously – just be yourself," she told Doc. "It worked for the rest of us."

"Yeah, Doc – the way she was looking at you, she likes what she sees," Marty said, grinning. "Though telling her she's the most beautiful woman you've ever seen and that destiny brought you together doesn't hurt. Girls like that stuff."

"As he knows from experience, the flatterer," Jennifer said, indicating for him to lean down so she could kiss his cheek. "But yeah, Doc, don't sweat it. Looks to me like you've already got a good thing going."

"I'm trying not to," Doc said, pulling out his hanky and wiping his forehead before replacing his hat. "But it's hard when your only experience with love is being tricked and dumped. Twice."

"It'll be fine," Victor assured, slipping his hand into Alice's. "When you meet someone like that – you know. Simple as that."

"Victor, we're Touched. Nothing is simple."

"True, but don't make it more complicated than it needs to be either," Alice said. "Victor and I have experience in _that_ department too." She waved a hand. "Look, we'll find out soon enough what she wants – she knows you have a shop in town, and there's an open invitation for her to visit. No sense in tying yourself up in hypothetical knots until then."

"True," Doc agreed with a firm nod. "I'll let the matter lie until she actually appears at my door, and I'd appreciate it if you all did the same. Which means _don't tell your mother_ , Marty," he added in his friend's direction. "If she has the slightest inkling I have a potential romantic partner, she'll be dragging us to the altar _before_ you and Jennifer."

"Lips sealed, Doc," Marty promised, before throwing him another shit-eating grin. "Though it _w_ _ould_ make things a lot easier. . . ."

"Jennifer, shut him up for me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \-->I've probably mentioned this before, but Doc's "Terminator" shotgun, and what it shoots, are taken from an earlier draft of BTTF III I read about on Kirsten Sheley's website -- Clara's already around in that draft and threatens Buford with it when Doc's facing him down over nearly hanging Marty.
> 
> \-->Marty's horse "Huey" is a reference to Huey Lewis, who did some songs for the first BTTF; Christopher's "Ellie" is a pun on how knights in chess move -- in Ls.
> 
> \-->Obviously, a good portion of Clara's backstory is cribbed from the Animated Series episodes "Brothers" and "Clara's Folks," and the IDW comic "Clara's Story" -- appropriately adjusted to fit this verse, of course!
> 
> \-->"Marston Suncream" is a sneaky little _Red Dead Redemption_ reference -- haven't played the game, but I've heard a lot of good about it!
> 
> \-->Clara's "hasta luego" is from the BTTF III novelization, and Doc's "perfectly cromulent word" is taken from the TV Trope entry of the same name, because why not? XD
> 
> \-->The Parker Ranch was also mentioned in the BTTF Animated Series (it's amazing how much I take from that series despite the fact I think it's completely and utterly ridiculous)
> 
> \-->Miss Johnston who became Mrs. Steenburgen is a double reference to Joanna Johnston, costume designer on the BTTF sequels, and Mary Steenburgen, the actress who played Clara.


	7. Mendacity Involving Telescopes

September 5th, 1882

Hill Valley, California

12:46 P.M.

"Testing, testing! One-two, one-two, one-two-three-four–"

"Are you about to break into song?"

"That's the power of love," Marty sang into the receiver, grinning. "But hey, good to know you can hear me!"

"Loud and clear," Victor confirmed.

"I'm not surprised – you two are in the same room," Richard pointed out.

"Trust me, love to take 'em outside and see what they can really do, but I think the only reason they survived the Great Purge was because Gillin forgot we had 'em," Marty told him.

"Exactly – and I don't want to have to add them to the junk pile," Doc nodded. "I'm quite proud of them. I mean, I know I'm not the _first_ to build a set of homemade portable telephonics, but–"

"But nothing – they're amazing," Victor cut in, holding up his set. "Maybe this isn't the ideal testing area, but the sound coming out of the speaker is some of the clearest I've heard in a while."

"I know – something like this would be perfect for the nursery," Alice agreed, taking the set and examining it. "Do you think we could smuggle them past the mayor on our way out? If you don't mind giving them up, of course."

"You're welcome to try – though I worry about how well they'd take the journey back home," Doc admitted, rubbing the back of his head. "The tubes inside are more fragile than I'd like."

"We could always store them in Lightning's kennel," Victor suggested, looking back to where his dog was tied up near the door. Lightning barked back at him, then put his paws on the wood. "Yes, I know you'd like to go outside, but I don't trust you not to either just take off into the desert or roll in the first pile of horse poop you see."

Lightning whined, then resumed his sniffing of everything within reach, stretching his rope to the limit. "One of these days, he'll wear out his batteries," Christopher said, chuckling. "As for the telephonics, I think the easiest idea would be for you to give us some instructions on how you made them, Doc. I'm sure with proper guidance, Richard and I could both manage a pair."

"I actually sketched out some blueprints – which are, um, tucked around here _somewhere_ ," Doc said, frowning around the mess of blacksmithing equipment and various domestic odds and ends that had spread across his barn home. "Hang on. . . ."

"Take your time – we're in no rush." Emily clapped Marty on the back as Doc started his search in a nearby bureau full of various papers. "So – just two days until the big event! Excited?"

"Totally," Marty replied, smiling as he set his telephonic down. "Little nervous too, but – that's normal, right?"

"Oh, absolutely," Christopher assured him. "I've fought numerous battles against the worst both Touched science and ordinary humanity has to offer, seen things that would harden the nerves of any trained soldier – and I _still_ had butterflies in my stomach the morning of my wedding to Victoria."

"I must have spent a good ten minutes changing my hat before my ceremony," Richard added, laughing softly. "Only to go straight back to the one I started out with. Nerves are a natural part of the human body – couldn't get along without them!"

"So long as you're _not_ nervous about spending the rest of your life with Jennifer," Victoria qualified, holding up a finger.

"Oh, hell no – I'm looking forward to _that_ part," Marty told her, hands raised. "It's getting old, only getting to catch up with her when one of us can make the trip to the other's place, or we both happen to be in town at the same time. Finally getting to have a house of our own? Waking up to her face every single morning?" He grinned, bright and goofy. "That's gonna be heaven." He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. "It's just – it's the whole thing with Gillin, you know? All the dirty looks, little comments, treating Doc and me like criminals, getting so pissed off with you guys just existing. . .I'm not convinced he's not gonna come up with some stupid reason to stop us getting married. And I'm not entirely sure how Reverend Warwick feels about me either."

"Oh, did you get his church with one of the infamous fires?" Alice asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Oooh no – if we had, I don't think we'd be here," Marty said, making a face. "No, he got clocked by the wheel of cheese. Fortunately for us, he's been more forgiving than the mayor, but I keep wondering if he's just waiting for the right moment to pull some shit. . . ." He rubbed the back of his head. "I dunno, though. Maybe I just miss Father Gale. Warwick's a little more doom-and-gloomy than he is."

"Ah – _how_ doom-and-gloomy?" Victor asked, chewing his lip. "Because if he's anything like Pastor Galswells, I'd like to prepare myself for Sunday."

"Me too," Victoria said, shivering. "The man was a vulture in human form, I swear."

"Not _that_ bad," Marty assured them. "I mean, we celebrate Halloween around here. And the Christmas and Easter sermons aren't all 'repent ye lowly sinners.'"

"Though he _has_ been going on more about the importance of not falling to hubris," Doc added, moving on from the bureau to his desk. "And 'not twisting the will of God with metal and flesh.'"

"Lovely – definitely sounds like Galswells," Victor said with a deep sigh. "One of his favorite topics was how Touched corrupt everything. And that the only way to resist the stain on your soul was to abstain from most modern technology." He ran his fingers through his hair. "I think that's why Burtonsville is so backwards compared to the rest of the country – they're _trying_ to be. If William didn't _employ_ most of the town, I'm not entirely sure Galswells wouldn't have tried to run him out once he started the cannery."

"I hear stories like this, and I am baffled all over again as to how any of you stood growing up in that place," Richard declared, arms folded. "I would have gone 'round the twist, as they say! And not in the fun Touched way." He considered that a moment. "Well, probably I would have, but not before the unfun way."

"We simply didn't know any better as children," Victoria told him. "At least, I didn't – my family never ventured beyond the village walls, simply because we couldn't afford to. And Mother kept me indoors for most of my girlhood, to keep me away from the 'commoners.'" She smiled weakly. "I thought that was some terrible disease until I was six."

Victor snorted. "One carried by fish merchants?"

"And grocers, and butchers, and anyone else lower than us on the social ladder," Victoria said, shaking her head. "I am frankly impressed at just how my parents continued to be such terrible snobs even as we sold off practically all our possessions just to put food on the table. A good three-quarters of our mansion was shut by the time your parents put in their offer, Victor. And all their other properties fallen to ruin." She huffed. "And now they live on my dear husband's pound, and barely give us any thanks for saving them from the poorhouse."

"Giving them a portion of my income to keep them quiet and away from us is more than worth it, in my opinion," Christopher replied, patting her shoulder. "And we can always lord it over them that Good Queen Vic likes me more than she does them when we're cross."

"Ruff! Ruff! Ruff!"

Victor blinked, then looked over at Lightning, who was pawing eagerly at the front door of the shop. "What's up with you now?" he asked, going over. "Silly little puppy, do you need–"

_Knock-knock_ "Hello?"

Lightning barked another greeting, tail wagging like mad. Doc jerked his head up from his examination of a drawer. "Is that–"

"Sounds like it," Emily said, eyes bright. "Come on in, Clara!"

"Actually, just a moment, I'm right in front of the door!" Victor scooped up Lightning, tucking him under his arm. "All right, it's good!"

The door creaked open, and Clara stuck her head in. "Hello, everyone," she said, slipping inside with a long, thin case in hand. "I hope I'm not – oh!"

Clara leaned down, smiling at Lightning as he yapped and pawed at the air, trying to get closer for a sniff. "I _thought_ I heard barking," she said. "Hello there. Emmett, you didn't say you had a dog before."

"He's not mine – he's Victor's," Doc explained, standing up straight and tugging at his shirt collar.

"Lightning," Victor said, setting him on the ground. "We didn't want to leave him at home for over a fortnight." He held Lightning in place as he prepared to zoom off after Clara's shoes, giving him a light tap on the rump. "Sit, boy! Sit!"

Lightning, fortunately, sat, panting as he gazed up at Clara with eager interest. Clara giggled, crouching down to offer him a hand. "I take it he lives up to the name with all that energy."

"Oh yes," Victor said, with as much fond exasperation as a human could muster. "There's a reason he's tied up like this instead of roaming free around the shop."

Clara nodded, giving Lightning a scritch behind the ears. "Aww, well, I'm sure you're still a good boy," she informed him, making his tail beat against the dirt floor.

"He certainly makes life more interesting," Alice agreed, smiling at the dog. "We didn't expect to see you again so soon."

"Oh, well, I had to come into town – I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" Clara asked, standing up and brushing the dirt from her skirt.

"Not at all," Doc assured her. "Just having a bit of a chat. This and that and the other thing."

"And, uh, testing out something we don't want the mayor to get all huffy about, so if you could just shut the door. . . ." Marty added, with an anxious glance at the street behind her.

"Oh?" Clara promptly closed the door with her foot, eyes bright. "An Invention?"

"Portable telephonics," Doc said, puffing his chest out. "For communication on the go! Alice has one of the sets if you want a look."

"I do indeed!" Clara hurried over to Alice, tucking the case under her arm and accepting the set from her for inspection. "Goodness me. . .you've gotten them quite small! I haven't yet seen one that didn't require a shoulder strap."

"Yeah, these are a lot easier to lug around." Marty put his set to his mouth. "Hey, can you hear me?"

Clara grinned at the tinny echo from the speaker. "Oh, that's amazing! Can I?"

"Of course," Doc said, coming around. "Here – this button on the side lets you talk, and that dial is volume control."

"I see. . . ." Clara fiddled with the dial for a moment, then pressed the button. "Hello hello!" she announced, voice crackling through Marty's set. "How wonderful – I wish we could use them outside! What's the range, do you know?"

"Unfortunately, we haven't had a chance to officially test that yet," Doc admitted, running his fingers through his hair. "I designed them with distance in mind, though – they're calibrated to keep contact for a couple of miles at least."

"Wow. . .I wonder if I could smuggle one back to my cabin," Clara said thoughtfully, one finger on her chin. "I doubt anyone's going to search me on the way out, and we could see for sure how far it goes."

Doc blinked. "You'd – you'd be willing to do that?"

"Doc, I think she made it pretty clear yesterday she's all in favor of advancing scientific progress," Marty reminded him, smirking. "Particularly yours."

"How are you settling in?" Victoria asked, saving Doc from doing much more than blushing.

"Just fine," Clara told her. "Though I did spend the rest of yesterday and a good chunk of the morning cleaning. I wish you hadn't told me about the suction vacuum, Christopher. I missed it terribly while beating the dust out of the rugs and furniture."

"My apologies," Christopher said with a little bow. "If I'd only had the parts, I would have been happy to give it my best try."

"It's fine – just looking at it as good exercise," Clara shrugged. "It's all done now, and I've sorted out what's left of my luggage. So it's at least livable."

"When do you start as the schoolteacher?" Emily asked, bouncing on her toes.

"Next Wednesday – Mayor Gillin dropped by earlier, while I was finishing up the rugs, and gave me the details," Clara said. "He told me he'd hired some men to help clean out the schoolhouse, and that he hoped I found Hill Valley welcoming." Her eyebrows lowered. "And then warned me that the local blacksmith was a Touched and that I should keep my distance, because 'who knows what damage he might do to young, growing minds.'"

"That – did you tell him just who it was who saved you from going over the side of Shonash Ravine?" Alice demanded, hands on her hips.

"I didn't get a chance – he was already on his horse when he said that, and he left right afterward." Clara shook her head. "I don't think I would have told him anyway. I got the distinct feeling he would have been _annoyed_ by all of you, particularly Emmett, saving my life."

"Probably," Marty admitted, rolling his eyes. "Other than that, though, what do you think of the place?"

"Very rustic," Clara said, adjusting her hat minutely. "Quite the change from West Orange, that's for sure! But the people seem friendly enough." She smirked. "Except for Mr. Statler, who refused to look me in the eye when I passed by his paddock."

"Hmph – that's my fault," Emily said, hands on her hips. "I gave him a tongue-lashing when we returned the other horse. Tried to get him to refund your money too, but he wouldn't budge. Said the loss of the buckboard meant the loss of your deposit."

"Well, thank you, but don't go to too much trouble on my account," Clara said, holding up her hands. "Because, let's be fair, I did _keep_ one of his horses. And I'd prefer not to have to deal with him again, honestly."

"Understandable," Doc said, shaking his head.

"Mmm. . .to tell the truth, I came into town to see you specifically, Emmett," Clara confessed, playing with the telephonic set. "I, um, I don't suppose you could help me with something?"

"I will do my best," Doc promised instantly, standing up as straight and tall as he could. "What's the problem?"

"My telescope," Clara explained, setting down the set and pulling out the thin case. "I'm afraid it was damaged when the buckboard crashed. I was hoping you might be able to repair it." She scuffed the floorboards with her toe. "I would pay you, of course–"

"Oh, no, no," Doc cut in, shaking his head. "I wouldn't _dream_ of charging you." He took the case from her, studiously ignoring all the little smiles being shared by his friends. "Let's have a look. Can you describe the issue?"

"Nothing major – I think a lens was knocked out of alignment," Clara explained as he snapped open the case on his work table.

Doc put the telescope to his eye, squinting through it. "Oh?"

"Yes – you see, if you turn it this way. . . ." Clara reached around Doc, adjusting the telescope. "The image turns fuzzy, see?" Her other arm curled around him, twisting it back. "But if you turn it the–" She swallowed, apparently only just noticing how close they actually were. "The other way. . . ."

Doc slowly lowered the telescope and turned to face her, nose practically touching hers. "Everything. . .becomes. . .clear," he finished for her, voice just barely above a whisper.

"Er – aren't telescopes supposed to – _ow_!"

Richard rubbed his side, shooting Emily a look. "What was that for?"

"Shush, darling," Emily replied, bony elbow still in a poke-ready position.

"No, Richard, I see what you mean, that doesn't sound like – _hey_!" Christopher protested, jumping away as Victoria supplied him with his own jab in the ribs.

"Both of you, quiet," Victoria told him, shaking her head at Emily. "Men sometimes."

"Lucky for you, they didn't even notice," Marty said, grinning as Doc and Clara lost themselves in each other's eyes again. " _Man_ , they fall fast – who wants the honors?"

Victor raised his hand. "Let me just. . . ." He sidled closer to them, then coughed as loudly as possible. "AHEM!"

Doc and Clara jumped, blinking as they looked around for the source of the noise. "Do forgive me," Victor told them, trying his best to look sincere. "I didn't mean to interrupt."

Clara blushed, fiddling with the purse clipped to her dress. "Ah – no, quite all right."

"Mmm," Doc agreed, studiously keeping his gaze on the telescope. "You're right, nothing major. I can fix it today and have it for you tonight."

To Victor's surprise, Clara looked rather disheartened by this news. "Oh – but the town festival's tonight," she reminded him. "I saw all the banners when I came into town. I couldn't have you work during such an important event." Her lips lifted in a hopeful smile. "You _are_ planning on attending, right?"

"Of _course_ he is," Marty said, walking over and slinging his arm around Doc. "We're all going! Gonna be a great time, right, Doc?"

"Yes, of course," Doc nodded, expression pleasantly bewildered. Victor wondered if he'd looked the same when he'd spontaneously planned his first date with Alice. "The festival. I'll be there."

"And he can still get your telescope, considering – ow! Emily!"

"I told you shush!"

"Don't, Richard," Christopher said, glancing over at his own wife suspiciously. She just smiled. "We'll meet up with you there."

"Sounds wonderful," Clara beamed. "I'll see you at the festival then, Emmett. And the rest of you too." She nodded at the group at large. "Lovely to see you all again."

"Yes, great to see you too, but given that you're an astronomer of just-past-amateur status, you do know _ow_!" Richard scurried away from his wife, scowling. "What happened to the days when you _didn't_ jab me in the side every time I tried to make conversation?"

"It was lovely to see you as well," Emily said, ignoring him. "We'll catch up again tonight."

"We will." Clara waved at them as she headed for the door, stopping briefly to give Lightning a parting pat on the head. "Nice to meet you, Lighting. You be a good boy for Victor, all right?"

Lightning barked and licked her hand. Clara chuckled, then glanced back one last time at Doc. "Thank you for fixing my telescope."

"You're quite welcome!" Doc replied, all enthusiasm.

Clara gave him a last smile before finally making her way out the door. Doc stared after her, telescope in his hands, seemingly frozen in pure adoration. Marty smirked at the others before nudging him. "It's a nice telescope, huh?"

"What? Oh, yes," Doc said, shaking off the spell with an effort. "Quite well made." He turned it over, taking another peek through the eyepiece. "Shouldn't be a hard fix, either. I don't usually work with lenses, but–"

"But that doesn't matter as it's _not broken!_ " Richard finally got out, protecting his side with his arm as he hopped away from Emily.

Doc raised an eyebrow at him. "What are you talking about?"

"He means that _all_ telescopes turn fuzzy if you twist them one way, and clear if you adjust them the other," Alice said, laughing. "I believe it's called 'focusing?'"

"And I'm sure Clara _knew_ that, but chose not to bring it up, because it was a convenient excuse to come and see the nice blacksmith and scientist who saved her life the other day," Emily said, hands on her hips as she frowned at her husband. "How on earth did you ever figure out _I_ was flirting with you when we were courting?"

" _You_ didn't use mendacity involving telescopes!"

"Great Scott, I – I never even. . . ." Doc twisted the telescope in his hands, going pink around the ears. "She was just – so _close_ , and I. . . ."

"I don't think she _minded_ you not cottoning on," Alice informed him, patting his arm. "Particularly as it secured her a promise to meet her at the festival tonight."

" _Now_ can we plan your first date?" Victoria asked cheekily.

"Oh, don't start again," Doc said, frowning at her. "I've done nothing more than agree to meet her in a public location at a large social event to talk and perhaps share some food and a few activities and for Newton's sake that _is_ a date, isn't it?!"

Alice cracked up, leaning on Victor for support. "Well, almost," she said, wiping her eyes. Victor provided her with a handkerchief. "Oh, thank you darling. . .I don't think most dates involve seven or eight of your best friends tagging along."

"We're his chaperones," Emily said, grinning. "And _I_ promise to be a pretty awful one."

"Date. . .Great Scott." Doc paced back and forth, a curious Lightning copying him as best he could. "It didn't even occur to me that's what – I'm used to a more formalized and gender-restricted process! Hell, I don't think I've _been_ on a date since Jill dumped me! And that was in my thirties!"

"Don't panic – you're among much more experienced friends," Christopher said, taking him by the shoulders. "And you've already gotten the most difficult part out of the way – the where and the when!"

"Maybe, but – well, for starters, what do I wear?" Doc ran his fingers through his hair. "I was just going to go in my church suit, but is that too formal? Too _casual_? I mean, I know I can't show up in my work clothes. . . ."

"Oh, I don't know," Alice said with a trademark smirk. "Maybe drop everything but your apron and just go in that. Given how eagerly she's been coming onto you, Clara would likely enjoy the view."

Doc's entire face went red. "Aaaaah. . .I doubt anyone else would."

"Yeaaaah, let's not end this thing early with a public indecency charge," Marty agreed, hiding a smile. "Church suit should be fine, Doc – I'm sure everybody else, including Clara, are gonna be wearing their Sunday best, or something close-to."

"And you don't have to worry about things to talk about either," Victor reminded him. "We already know how much she loves to hear about science."

"And the way you two look at each other. . . ." Emily sighed, somewhere up on cloud nine. "I'm sure you're guaranteed a spectacular evening out."

Doc bit his lip. "If I'm allowed out at all. What if they don't let me _into_ the festival?"

Emily blinked, descending back to Earth with a bump. "What?"

"Mayor Gillin is dedicating the new clock tower clock at the party," Doc clarified, looking around. "It's not out of the realm of possibility that, to prevent another _Incident_ , he'd bar me from attending."

"Shit – didn't think of that," Marty admitted, grimacing. "He's the mayor, he'd be allowed. . . ."

"How _could_ he keep you out, though?" Alice asked, folding her arms across her belly. "Isn't this all happening mere feet from your front door?"

"Strickland's deputies will be around, serving as guards – and Strickland himself should be back this evening." Doc scratched the back of his head. "If Gillin tells him to not let me in, I don't have a chance of attending. Strickland is _not_ the kind of man whose authority you flout."

"And if _you're_ not allowed in, we're probably not either," Christopher said with a deep frown. "Likely with the excuse that the event is not for 'out-of-towners' or some nonsense like that."

Emily pouted, arms folded and skeletal fingers drumming against her flesh. "Damn it. I was looking forward to the festival. I know the town hasn't been particularly friendly but – I've always loved a good party."

"Don't lose heart yet," Victoria told her. "We may be worrying over nothing. We don't know for _sure_ they won't let us in. And Doc, if you weren't allowed to go, the mayor surely would have told you by now."

"That's true," Alice agreed with a nod. "He wasn't shy before about letting us know where we stood when he came to see us at the Palace. If we were barred from the festivities, I think it would have come up then."

"A fair point," Doc allowed, turning thoughtful. "He is the type who would stop by to officially bar me if that were the case. Though maybe he's waiting until the last moment to stop me kicking up a fuss. Like how he only warned Clara about me when he was already on his horse."

"I don't know. . .what do you think, Marty?" Victor asked, turning to the other resident expert on Hill Valley politicians. "Do you think _you'll_ find any trouble getting in?"

"Eh – not sure," Marty admitted, wiggling a hand. "On the one hand, Gillin knows Doc and I are usually a package deal, so if he was gonna keep Doc out, he'd want me out too. On the _other_ hand, he also knows that telling any of my folks I can't come in is gonna kick up a _major_ fuss, and I don't think he wants a McFly-wide boycott of the festival. Like Grampa Seamus said, my family was one of the first ones here. Would be kind of embarrassing not to have us at his big clock dedication ceremony."

"I promise a simple solution," Richard declared, holding up a finger. "We show up tonight and present ourselves to whoever's in charge of letting people in. They pass us through, then fine, we're in the clear. They tell us to get lost, we come back here and have our own party. They can't stop us from enjoying ourselves nearby!"

"Hey, sounds good to me," Marty said. "And if I'm the only one allowed in, I'll go tell Clara what's up so she can join us if she wants."

"That's an acceptable plan to me," Doc said, setting the telescope on his workbench with the greatest of care. "Though, if we are at least going to _attempt_ to attend, you had all better get back to the McFly farm. You'll need the time to get cleaned up and changed before the opening ceremonies."

"Good point – I'll go get Uncle William and have him bring the wagon around."

Lighting barked as Marty passed, tried to follow him, then whined as his lead caught before he could get far. "It's okay, boy," Victor told him, going over and giving his fur a ruffle. "Soon we'll be back at the farm, and you can have a good run-around."

"Perhaps we should take him to the festival with us?" Alice suggested, joining him. "You and he could use puppy dog eyes together on the guards. I'd like to see them resist that."

"Considering all the old-timers at the saloon called him an overgrown rat, I don't think that would work." Victor scratched Lightning behind the ears. "But you're not, aren't you, Lightning? You're a good boy."

Lightning wuffed, putting his paws on Victor's knee. "A very good boy," Alice agreed. "We don't care what some mean old men drinking their lives away in a saloon think." She scrunched up her nose. "Wonder if we'll run into _them_ at the festival."

"I hope not – I could do without any more 'circus' remarks," Emily said with a scowl. "This is an important night, and I want to enjoy myself."

"If you mean important in regards to my relationship with Clara, let's not put the carriage before the horse," Doc said, one hand raised. "Yes, it _looks_ like a date right now, but technically I'm meeting her there to – er – hand back her telescope," he muttered, with a quick glance at the item in question. "I'm not denying in the slightest that things seem to be heading in a romantic direction. And I'm glad of that fact! She's – something else." He let himself go dreamy for a second, before shaking it off. "Just – let me take it one step at a time." He pressed his hand against his chest. "I start thinking about this too much in terms of a potential relationship, and I'll start panicking worse than Victor did when he first asked out Alice."

"I, ah, don't think that's possible," Victor assured him, chuckling as Alice hid a grin.

"It's in the nature of Touched to try and one-up each other," Doc responded, though he couldn't help a smile of his own. "Watch me."

"Better romantic panic than death rays, I suppose," Alice said, smirking. "You take it as slow as you need to, Doc. Worked out fine for Victor and me."

"But don't be afraid to speed things up when the time is right," Emily put in, winking.

"I will keep both precepts in mind." Doc headed for the wardrobe, running his fingers through his hair. "Anyway – I still owe you those blueprints on the portable telephonics, if I can find them before you go. . .and, uh, if you all wouldn't mind taking just a _quick_ look at the suit?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \-->Yes, that IS my headcanon regarding Clara's telescope and why she brought it over -- come on, it's cute. XD


	8. Let The Festivities Begin

September 5th, 1882

Hill Valley, California

7:39 P.M.

"Well – say what you want about Hill Valley being a one-street town, but they certainly know how to decorate for a festival."

"To be fair, Alice, it's easier to _do_ so when you're just one street," Christopher pointed out, chuckling. "But I do agree. The lanterns in particular are nice – I like the classic Chinese design." He nodded at a California flag draped over the cabinet-and-coffin-maker's shop. "And I see state pride is in full swing."

"Hey, the festival's all about celebrating twenty years of Hill Valley existing," Marty told him, grinning. "Of course we're gonna be proud of being an official part of good old California."

"Twenty years since old Bill Hill arrived and pulled everyone together," Seamus mused, looking at the sky. "Doesn't feel like nearly that long."

"Bill – is _that_ why it's called Hill Valley?" Alice asked, glancing back at him. "I thought whoever named it just had a fondness for oxymorons."

"Well, to be fair, I think Bill _did_ think it made a good joke," Seamus laughed. "But nobody here seems to mind we're not really one thing or the other." He sighed. "I still miss him sometimes. He was a good man. Solid head on his shoulders."

Victoria patted his arm. "Well, he left an entire town behind him – I think that's a good legacy."

"And I'm sure he'd be proud to see how far Hill Valley's come," Victor added, hoping it didn't sound sarcastic.

Seamus smiled at him. "Kind of you to say so. 'Specially given that I know most of the town hasn't been the most welcoming."

"Perhaps, but the only ones who have been actively hostile so far are Zeke, Jeb, and Levi from the saloon, and Mayor Gillin – and only the latter is really a problem." Alice sucked on her lower lip. "You're sure he's not going to have anything to say about us being at the festival?"

"Oh, he may fuss a little – but he's been going on for weeks now about how it's open to everyone who considers themselves a 'friend of Hill Valley,'" Seamus declared, folding his arms. "I intend to make him stand by that."

"We're not really friends with the _town_ – just two specific people," Richard pointed out.

"Who are part of Hill Valley, so it still counts."

"Don't you worry about a thing," Maggie added, regal in her purple dress. "The mayor knows we were friends with the founder. He won't do a thing to upset us."

"And trust me, Gramma, we appreciate it," Marty said, expertly dodging a pile of manure as they came level with the Palace Saloon. He ignored their patriotic bunting in favor of staring across the square at Doc's unassuming barn. "I hope Doc's doing okay. I've never seen him get wound up about _clothes_ before."

"He just wants to make a good first impression!" Emily said, twirling and sending her cream skirts spinning. "It's his first date with Clara, after all! I fussed for _hours_ over my dress the first time I went to meet Barkis on my own!" She paused. "Granted we know how _that_ worked out, but – you get the idea."

"Perhaps the better comparison would be my struggle to find just the right dress when Victor and I had _our_ first date," Alice said, tugging Victor a little closer to her. "Intellectually, I knew that Victor would like me no matter what I wore. But in my heart – I wanted to show off. Just a little."

"You did," Victor told her, cupping her cheek. "That dress is _still_ one of my favorites."

"Mine too." Alice shot her abdomen a sour look. "A shame I can't fit it over this belly. I love you, child, but you are taking up _far_ too much room in there."

Her red dress jiggled slightly as a little foot kicked back in protest. "I don't think they agree," Victor chuckled. "But for what it's worth, you look gorgeous in this too." He ran his fingers over her scalp. "That shade of red really brings out the highlights in your hair."

Alice shook her head fondly. " _Now_ you're just flattering me."

"Isn't that what husbands are _supposed_ to do?"

"Not to – oh!" Alice said, holding up a finger as the door to the blacksmith shop opened. "Hold that thought – here comes our anxious suitor now."

"Yeah – hey, Doc!" Marty said, jogging ahead to meet his friend. The others brought up the rear, moving across the square like a dolphin chasing a fish.

"Hi Marty," Doc said, touching his hat as they approached. "Victor, Alice, Christopher, Victoria, Richard, Emily – oh, and Seamus, Maggie! Didn't expect to see you here."

"Thought we'd walk over with you all," Seamus said, tipping his hat in return. "I know the rest of me kin shouldn't have any problems getting in, but. . . ." He shrugged. "Figured it was best if I came along with you and Marty. Just in case."

"You look very smart, Doc," Victoria said with an approving smile.

"Just perfect for the party," Emily agreed. "We told you it would be fine."

"I know you did, but. . . ." Doc adjusted the loops of his bolo tie. "Just good to know it looks as smart on as it does off. How is everyone?"

"Looking forward to the shooting gallery," Marty said, making a gun out of his thumb and forefinger. "Think I can beat my record from last year?"

"Given how often you've been practicing with tin cans over the past few months, definitely," Doc replied, grinning.

"One of these days, you have to _buy_ something from that poor salesman," Seamus said, doing his best to repress his own smile.

"Grampa, his guns are _twelve dollars_. Apiece! If I'm gonna drop that much money on _anything_ , it's gonna be on something for my guitar. Besides, it's not like he seems to mind. . .hey, Alice! You should give it a go this year!"

"I might – so long as nobody objects," Alice said, looking up at Victor significantly.

"If you don't think it'll hurt the baby, I won't stop you," Victor told her, though he couldn't stop himself from frowning.

"You still don't seem keen on it. Maybe I could borrow the gallery – and a knife – to show off my knife-throwing skills instead? No risk of recoil there."

"I somehow doubt someone who sells guns for a living will appreciate you using his booth to demonstrate your prowess with flinging a blade," Christopher said. "Maybe there's a knife salesman?"

"I think there is, but I've never seen him with a carnival booth." Marty glanced down at Alice's belly. "But yeah, I bet Johnson is gonna take one look at you and go 'I'm not giving a woman with child a weapon.' Damn, and I was looking forward to seeing you take on the challenge. . . ."

"Other opportunities will present themselves," Alice said, waving a hand. "Just another reminder of how much I want this damn baby _out_."

"Speaking of moving things along, it's almost eight o'clock," Seamus said, checking his watch.

"Is it? We'd best get moving then," Maggie declared, fixing her hat. "Wouldn't do to miss the dedication ceremony!"

"Right." Doc gave his tie one final tug, pushed up the brim of his hat, and squared his shoulders. "Let's go."

Five anticlimatic steps later, they reached a long table at the edge of the festivities, piled with revolvers and pistols. A sign set at the near end declared that one had to "CHECK ALL FIREARMS." Two rather bored-looking guards waited beside it, watching the pile of weapons with perhaps rather less care than the situation warranted. "You folk have any iron on you?" one drawled as they neared. "Knives count."

"Nothing," Christopher said, holding up his hands.

"Nothing here either," Doc said, doing the same.

"Left it back at the farm," Alice told him, garnering a raised eyebrow. "What? Ladies can use weapons too, if the moment calls for it."

"I'm clean," Marty said, turning out his pockets for them.

"Ah – er – well, it's _mostly_ steel, actually, but. . . ." Richard grimaced and snapped open the tip of his right finger. The guards stood up a little straighter, blinking. "I'm afraid I can't exactly leave _this_ on your table – but it's just a tranquilizer gun, I swear! _And_ unloaded!"

The guards exchanged a look, eyebrows arched. "Rules is no firearms," the first fellow said, hands on his hips. His gaze shifted to Emily and back. "And we ain't got a sideshow either, for that matter."

"They're with the McFlys," Marty said, tapping his chest with eyes narrowed. "Guests, all right?"

"Rules is rules," the man replied, glaring at him. "You lookin' to cause some trouble, you whippersnapper?"

"We're not in the mood to deal with any nonsense," the other man added, with fists clenched.

"Then why are you spouting it?"

Both men started, whipping their heads around toward the nearby road. "Marshall! You're back!"

"Just in time, too." A man with a handlebar mustache to rival Christopher's rode up to them, a shotgun resting in the crook of his arm. Behind him trailed a young boy in a brown suit and cap, watching the proceedings with interest from the back of his roan. "I won't argue that we've had some – trouble with Dr. Brown and Master McFly here in the past," he continued, hitting both with a steely gaze. "But they _are_ citizens of this town, same as anyone else. And they've been following the law well for coming on two years now. Have their–" his eyes skimmed over Victor, Alice, Victoria, Christopher, Richard, and Emily "–guests here been doing the same?"

The men exchanged glances. "I guess," one admitted reluctantly, rubbing the back of his head. "We don't see 'em in town much, and they spend most of their time just hanging around the blacksmith shop. One thing happened with Tannen, but – that's Tannen. Didn't get any farther than a couple of blows exchanged, from what I heard."

" _He_ ain't following the law right now, though, Marshall," the second one said, pointing at Richard. "This here _contraption_ won't give up his gun!"

"Contraption? Actually kind of like that one," Richard said with a brief smile, before turning to Strickland. "And that's a lie – it's not that I _won't_ , it's that I _can't_. Unless you want me to leave my entire _arm_ behind!"

The Marshall – the famed Strickland, Victor guessed – frowned, clearly puzzled. "Leave your – what?"

"The gun's built into his index finger," Emily explained, wringing her hands. "It's a tranquilizer pistol in case of emergency. But it isn't loaded!"

"We'd quite like to see the mayor dedicate the clock," Maggie added, peering around the table. "Surely something can be done?"

Strickland looked at the pile of weapons, then back at Richard. "Let me see what all the fuss is about," he said, waving him over. Richard obligingly presented his hand for inspection, pulling off his glove so Strickland could get a better look at the mechanics. "Huh. . .so – guessing you squeeze your thumb to actually pull the trigger? Clever, I have to say."

"Why thank you," Richard said, preening as he looked over at the other two lawmen. "Thought it was a pretty solid design."

"Still a gun," the first one groused, scowling.

"Yes, but you can't ask a man to rip off part of his own _body_." Strickland peered into the barrel, then nodded and released Richard. "And he's right – don't see anything in there that could hurt anyone. Under the circumstances, I think we can let you in."

"Thank you, Marshall," Emily said, giving him her best smile.

"Much obliged!" Richard agreed, slipping his glove back on.

The two guards huffed at each other. "Really, Marshall," one grumbled. "Next you'll be saying that if Buford Tannen came around and gave up his gun, we'd have to let _him_ in."

Strickland sighed. "If he's willing to check his iron, yes." In response to everyone's astonished looks, he added, "Trust me, it pains me to say it, but Mayor Gillin wanted this to be a party so much he told me that _anybody_ could come. I'm just holding him to that. And hoping that Buford hasn't caught wind of it. . .though if he _does_ show and stirs up enough of a fuss. . . ." He pursed his lips, then shook his head. "Well, _you_ lot just stay on the right side of the law for now. And make sure to enjoy yourselves."

"Thanks, Marshall," Marty said, tipping his hat.

"Many thanks," Seamus agreed. "And you take some time to enjoy the party too. I know you're as married to your work as to your wife, but it does a man no good to be all work and no play."

"I'll find time to make the rounds, Seamus, don't you worry," Strickland assured him. He gave the boy behind him a quick, fond smile. "If only for my boy's sake."

The two guards exchanged another grumpy look before stepping off to the side. "All right, all right. Have fun," the first one said, sounding like he hoped they had anything but.

"Thank you – we intend to," Victoria replied in her absolute poshest voice. "Do enjoy the festival yourselves."

That plus Richard literally bouncing by them – well, Victor _tried_ to choke down the laugh, but didn't quite succeed. "Oh dear – you sounded almost exactly like your mother just then," he informed Victoria as they entered the festival proper.

Victoria's eyebrows shot up in horror. "Perish the thought! Should I apologize?"

"Don't ruin a perfect moment, darling," Christopher told her, grinning like a little boy on Christmas. He glanced back at Marshall Strickland, now discussing something with his son. "If only for the Marshall's sake – nice to finally meet the man. And I'm glad he showed up when he did! Good to see the head of the local law isn't biased."

"Yeah, Strickland's strict, but he's not an asshole about it," Marty nodded. "Best Marshall we've ever had, or so everyone tells me. I just hope he doesn't get an earful from Gillin about this."

"Well, he can always tell the mayor it's his own fault for not specifying a list of undesirables," Doc said. He tugged his coat with a frown. "Which, honestly, he really should have. I appreciate that his lax stance allowed us to come in, but – Great Scott, _Buford Tannen_! To think they'd have to let _him_ in by the same logic!"

"Tell me about it! I'm keeping my fingers crossed this isn't his kind of party," Marty said, looking left and right. "And that once he figures out Strickland's back, he'll give the place a wide berth."

"That hasn't always stopped him dropping by before. . . ."

"Think of it this way, lads – he can't do _nearly_ as much mischief without a gun," Seamus said, in a tone that suggested he wasn't sure how much he himself believed that, but was trying to keep their spirits up. "And there's no guarantee that he'll come here. Try to relax and enjoy the festival."

"Mmmm – we'll all keep a wary eye out," Maggie agreed, before frowning at the conglomeration of clockwork that had appeared before them, with people hurrying to and fro. "What's all this then?"

"The backside of our recently-delivered clock, I'd wager," Doc said. "Which means we'd better get on the _other_ side if we don't want to miss the ceremony!"

"Ah yes – come along, everyone!" Maggie commanded, leading the way with Seamus at her side. "I want to see just what it is Gillin has planned!"

They circled the stage and joined the gathering crowd before it, trying their best to blend in – which, with Richard in tow, wasn't very well at all. Fortunately for them, everyone seemed much more focused on the clock. It was an enormous thing, white and shiny, with its hands set to eight exactly. Mayor Gillin stood next to it, somberly made up in a black suit and top hat, with similarly-attired assistants at the ready nearby. He smiled as he watched his citizens jockey for the best position to watch the proceedings – then glowered as he caught sight of the Secundus group. Victor bit his lip under the force of the glare. "Well – maybe he didn't make it official, but we're _definitely_ not wanted," he mumbled to Alice.

"Mmm – well, as stated before, his own fault for _not_ making it official," Alice replied, directing a piercing stare back at Gillin. He held it for an impressive five seconds before giving up and looking away. "I'm here to have a good time, and he can just live with that fact."

Fortunately, any further passive-aggressive hostilities were cut short by one of the assistants checking his watch, then whispering in Gillin's ear. Gillin nodded and approached the front of the stage, signaling for quiet. "Ladies and gentlemen!" he boomed, hands tucked into his lapels. "As mayor of Hill Valley – it gives me great pleasure to dedicate this clock to the people of Hill County!" He swept one arm toward the timepiece in a grand gesture. "May it stand for all time!"

"The people around them cheered and applauded – Victor followed suit, offering up a few claps. Gillen took a look at the complex tangle of metal attached to the clock, then nodded to his assistant. "Tell me when!"

Said assistant peered closely at his watch, holding up his fingers as he counted down the seconds. "Three – two – one – NOW!"

Gillin yanked a lever, and the clock ticked to life. Right on cue, a brass band started up on their trumpets as the crowd let loose with an even louder cheer. Gillin flung off his hat as the clock tower behind him was lit up in showers of colorful sparks. "Let the festivities _begin_!"

With a final smattering of applause and a couple last ragged cheers, the crowd broke up, seeking out whatever activities were available. "Suren that was nice," Maggie said with a sharp, approving nod. "Short and to the point. And it's a fine clock and no mistake."

"Excellent workmanship – and I should know," Doc said with a soft laugh. "It'll be perfect for the clock tower."

"Hey!"

Jennifer jogged up to them, weaving her way through the dispersing people. "So Gillin _didn't_ kick you guys out!" she said, throwing herself onto Marty in a hug before kissing his cheek. "Dad got me all worried."

"Hey, we were worried too," Marty replied, kissing her back. "But nope – Strickland himself said we were allowed in, so we're here." He nodded at Mr. Parker as he caught up with his daughter. "Hi Mr. Parker. I don't suppose you've seen Miss Clayton around?"

"Not yet," Mr. Parker said, smoothing out his hair and mustache.

"I'm sure she's around somewhere, though," Jennifer added, winking at Doc.

"Yes, she needs to collect her unbroken telescope," Richard said, before edging away from Emily with his hands up. "I won't say anything, I won't say anything. . . ."

"How are you, Jennifer?" Victoria asked, as Emily mock-pouted over the lost opportunity to elbow her husband. "That's a lovely skirt."

"Thanks – made it myself," Jennifer told her, gathering a fistful of pink cotton speckled with purple flowers before letting it drop again. "And I'm doing great." She bounced on her toes, grinning at her fiance. "Only two more days!"

"I know! Just gotta get through the rehearsal now." Marty's gaze slid over to Victor. "Which I know from experience is easier said than done."

" _You'll_ be fine," Victor assured him, shaking his head. "You have simpler vows than I did. And no props."

"Yeah, that candle was a pain in the keister, wasn't it? Kinda glad we're just doing the traditional thing. . .oh, hey!" Marty turned back to Jennifer, putting his hands on her shoulders. "Mrs. Shaw brought her pie, right?"

"She did – two whole tins of strawberry apple," Jennifer told him, eyes bright.

"Far out! We gotta get over to the buffet first, guys," Marty said, pointing to a line of tables piled high with food not far off. "You haven't _lived_ until you've tried a slice of Shaw pie."

"I look forward to living, then." Alice raised her nose and sniffed. "Mmm – and is that your mother's fried chicken I smell?"

"Yup! Nobody's going hungry tonight, trust me."

"Sounds delicious, but what can one do to burn off all those calories?" Christopher asked, looking around.

"The dance floor is up," Jennifer told him, pointing out a larger stage closer to the clock tower, with three men atop it playing guitar and drums. "And we've got all the usual games – milk bottle toss, El Sapo, drop the ball in the cup. . .oh, and Mr. Starkey is arm-wrestling people." She smirked at Richard. "I dare you to give him a go."

"I have metal arms – he'd probably accuse me of cheating just by existing," Richard said, peering in the direction of the very-well-muscled Starkey and his booth. "Perhaps we could persuade you to be our guinea pig instead, Christopher?"

"I'm not opposed – but my real interest is in that shooting gallery Marty mentioned before," Christopher admitted. Perhaps Alice can't take part, but I wouldn't mind giving it a go."

"Oh, Mr. Johnson – yeah, he's on the other side of the dance floor," Jennifer reported, pointing him out. "You should make him a bet – one of his guns for free if you can beat Marty's high score. Trust me, it'll take some doing."

"Hey, if anyone's getting free stuff from that guy, it should be _me_ ," Marty argued, jabbing his thumb into his chest. " _I'm_ the one who put in all those hours shooting down bears and ducks and Indians in his gallery."

"Depends on how happy he is to see you this year, I suppose." Alice stood on tiptoe, squinting through the crowd. "Speaking of people happy to see us – is that Clara?"

All heads promptly turned to look. Sure enough, the schoolteacher was just visible, picking her way through the folks lingering at the edges of the dance floor. "Yeah, that's her – wow, her hair is _long_ ," Marty commented, one eyebrow raised.

"Indeed," Richard agreed. "And so curly – how _does_ she keep it all pinned up under her hat?"

"A lady's trade secret," Christopher told him. "You should see how long Victoria's hair is when she lets it out of her bun."

"It's all in the twist," Victoria said with a little smile. She pressed a hand against Doc's back. "All right – you're up."

"Right, right." Doc straightened to his full height and tugged on his tie. "I'm off. Wish me luck."

"Good luck!" Christopher obliged.

"And remember to breathe," Victor added.

"Yes. Thanks." Doc adjusted his hat, took a deep breath, then marched off toward Clara, holding up his hand in greeting.

"Er – shouldn't we go over with him?" Mr. Parker asked, sounding a touch concerned. "He seems awfully nervous."

"No, no, give them a moment to themselves," Emily said, hands clasped just under her chin. She giggled as their eyes met, and both Doc and Clara broke out in nearly-identical broad grins. "Ooooh, they are _so cute_!"

"You're more invested in _their_ relationship than you are in ours," Richard teasingly accused, taking advantage of the opportunity to give her a poke in the side.

"Oh stop it – we _got_ our happily-ever-after," Emily responded, swatting his hand. "I just want to share the love."

"Um – Jennifer's told me a bit of what happened, and – they've known each other two days," Mr. Parker pointed out, looking around the group with his eyebrow raised. "You're acting as if they're engaged."

"Dad, trust me – if you'd seen the way they were looking at each other at the picnic, you'd be right with us," Jennifer told him.

"Not to mention their first meeting involved him saving her life," Christopher added. "That would ginger up _any_ relationship."

"True. . . ." Mr. Parker watched as Doc and Clara stood together, exchanging what looked to Victor like shy, awkward compliments (and he would know). "They do look well-suited, especially if she's as into science as Jennifer says she is. It's just hard for me to believe in love at first sight, I suppose. Jane and I had what _I'd_ call a 'whirlwind romance,' and it was still four months between our first meeting and our wedding."

"I think it was roughly half a year of courting for most of us," Christopher said, looking around at the other couples. "Though I _tried_ to declare for Victoria's hand earlier. But no, her parents needed me to save her from a literal monster to come around."

"And Victor's cut and ran before we even thought of marriage," Alice said, tone dark. "Which, frankly, is fine by me, as I'm not sure all of us would have survived me having them as in-laws. . .and of course, your own daughter has been in it for the long haul," she added, jerking her head toward Marty and Jennifer. "Which must influence your own opinion further."

"Not as much as you might think," Mr. Parker chuckled. "I suspected Marty was going to ask for her hand pretty early in their relationship – it was more a matter of waiting until they were old enough. And later, for the, um, _Incident_ to blow over."

"Yeah, we might have gotten married a little earlier if _that_ hadn't happened," Marty allowed. "And hey, there might be no 'scientific rationale' or anything for love at first sight, but I know what I felt the first time I saw Jennifer." He wrapped an arm tight around her shoulders. "You meet the right girl, it just hits you. Like lightning."

"I think we can all agree with that," Victor said, mirroring Marty's pose with Alice. "Including Doc."

"Mmm – though if it makes you feel better, Mr. Parker, I don't think any of us are _seriously_ expecting him to elope with a woman he only met two days ago." Alice did her best impression of the Cheshire Cat. "They're just fun to watch."

"Speaking of which – did any of you know Doc can dance?" Richard asked, pointing.

"What now?" Victor followed his friend's finger, to see Doc and Clara bouncing around the dance floor in a lively square dance. "Oh!"

"Whoa!" Marty agreed, tone disbelieving. "I had no idea! He's never really seemed into it before."

"Love is full of surprises!" Emily grabbed Richard's arm and started towing him toward the dance floor. " _Now_ we can join them! I love a good dance!"

"I know – easy, easy!" Richard laughed, jogging to keep up with his excited wife. "You keep yanking on me like this, and I might as well have left my hand at the entrance!"

Christopher chuckled, then turned to Victoria with a bow. "Milady, may I ask you for the honor of this dance?"

"You may," Victoria said, taking his arm. "Though I should warn you, sir, I've never square-danced before."

"Neither have I – but just from observation, it doesn't look much different from a fast waltz," Christopher said, leading her over to the floor. "We may as well give it a go, right? Variety is the spice of life – along with all those other _actual_ spices."

"Uh, speaking of spices – buffet?" Marty said, looking between his friends and the food table. "I thought we were gonna go get some pie?"

"It'll be fine, Marty," Jennifer said, pulling him along behind Christopher and Victoria. "I'm sure they'll be some left after a dance or two. We gotta show these English folk how it's done! We'll catch up with you later, Dad!"

"Have fun!" Mr. Parker said, waving them off.

Victor watched them go, then turned to Alice, twisting the end of his tie in his fingers. "I've never square-danced either. . .are you u-up for it?"

Alice tilted her head. "Depends – do you mean 'do you want to square dance,' 'do you think you _can_ square dance in your condition,' or 'I'd rather not because I think I'm going to make a fool of myself but I'd feel like a cad if I didn't at least ask given everyone else is heading up there?'"

". . .a little of all three."

Alice smiled. "Well then – yes, I do want to, and yes, I personally think I can manage, even with my stomach sticking out a good foot from the rest of me." She patted his arm. "And while I won't force you into it – well, if Doc, who has apparently never tried dancing before, can manage, I think we can too. And it won't be just us making fools of ourselves up there either, you know." She tipped her head at Emily and Richard, trying to find a place to slip into the whirling crowd of dancers, and Victoria and Christopher, observing the steps with the kind of tight focus you normally only saw in someone trying to disarm a killer Automaton. "Besides, we both need to work up the proper appetite for all that fried chicken and strawberry-apple pie."

Victor laughed softly, nerves settling. "That's fair – and I don't want to be the only one standing on the sidelines either." He offered her his arm. "I'll do my best not to crash into anything."

"Likewise," Alice said, taking it. "Though I'm sure you'll be fine – you're more graceful than you think."

"You didn't see me on the day my mother pushed me into joining a fast quadrille, and I ended up losing my footing and nearly bowled over the buffet table."

"Well, the buffet is all the way over _there_ this time," Alice said, nodding at it. "And – while I do hate to say this – you causing yourself a minor injury might make some of the people around here like you more."

Victor glanced over at Mayor Gillin, still stationed by the clock and giving Richard's hat the stink-eye. "I really wish you weren't right about that. . .we'll see you later, Mr. Parker, Mr. and Mrs. McFly."

"Have fun!" Mr. Parker repeated, sending them off with a smile.

"We'll meet you by the buffet," Seamus added, making a beeline for the table. "And save you some of the pie!"

"Thank you!" With a final wave, Victor and Alice made their way across the square, up the steps, and onto the dance floor. For a moment, Victor worried that he and Alice were going to have the same trouble Richard and Emily were in finding a spot to blend in – and then, without warning, the crowd parted, leaving them staring at an open oasis of space. "Er. . . ."

"I don't think anyone wants to risk bumping the pregnant woman," Alice said with a smirk, before taking his hands and pulling him into the gap. "Richard, Emily! Christopher, Victoria!"

"Coming!" The other two couples hurried over, hastily assuming the position before doing their best to catch the beat. Victor did the same, pressing a hand against Alice's waist and staring at the nearest local couple's feet. _One-two, one-two, forward, back, forward, back – it_ is _a bit like a waltz,_ he thought as he and Alice began to revolve. _Lucky for me! I don't think I could have picked up anything more –_

"Ooof!"

Victor stumbled forward as Christopher's back hit his. "Sorry!" Christopher said, twirling away. "I was trying to avoid that other couple over there. . .bit hard to keep track of everyone!"

"People seem to be giving _us_ a pretty wide berth," Richard noted as he and Emily galloped along. "Probably best not to think of _why_."

"Same here," Victor said, managing to find his rhythm again. "At least it lessens my chances of crashing into anyone."

"Ow! Hey!"

Victor winced as he looked over at Marty and Jennifer, the latter rubbing her shin as two other people apologized. "And puts them on everyone else. . .who knew a square dance could be this chaotic?"

"All right, all right – hold up, people! Hold up!"

The music stuttered to a stop. Victor tripped as he lost the beat again, clinging to Alice for balance. Around him, puzzled couples turned toward the stage. "Looks to me like we're having a few too many accidents 'round here!" a man in a heavily-curled cowboy hat called, tapping his foot. "I think you folks need some direction if we're going to do this thing properly!" He clapped his hands, grinning. "Two lines, folks, two lines! Ladies on the left, men on the right!"

"What? Why?" Victor asked, looking around as the locals rushed to line up as indicated.

"Called dance!" Marty said, running over to join the men's line. "Come on, Victor, it'll be right up your alley – you just gotta follow the instructions!"

"Oh! Yes, that sounds about perfect right now. . . ." Victor gave Alice a kiss on the cheek before surrendering her to the ladies' line. "None of us seemed to be doing well on our own. Are you all right, Christopher?"

"Yes – pride's more bruised than anything," Christopher assured him. "Ah well, hopefully this will involve crashing into fewer friends."

"Just do what the guy says and you'll be fine," Marty said, waving Richard over. "Here, on the end!"

"Coming, coming!"

"Everyone ready?" the man asked, craning his neck as the last few stragglers got into position. "All righty. Look sharp, folks – here we go!"

With no further preamble, he started barking out instructions, backed by the band's eager efforts. Victor listened as closely as he could, but between the man's rapid-fire delivery and the music behind him, it was near impossible for him to keep up with the words. Fortunately, it was much easier to simply watch Marty and do exactly what he did. Even better, the dance itself proved to be pretty simple – step forward, step back, take your partner and whirl around a couple of times, advance down the line, change partners, and repeat it all again. Victor took a deep breath and did his best to relax, just moving with the music. "Not bad!" Jennifer complimented him as he took her arm for a turn.

"Thanks," Victor said with a smile. "You're quite good yourself."

"I told you you'd be fine," Alice said over her shoulder as Marty spun her around. "If you can dance the Lobster Quadrille, you can dance _anything_!"

Victor laughed, taking her hand as they swapped partners. "That's true, isn't it? Just I know the residents of Wonderland Park would never judge if I missed a step. . .I wish we could take a recording of this back home," he added wistfully. "They'd probably enjoy this."

"Perhaps we can ask Marty if he can get us a copy of the sheet music before we leave," Alice said, prancing around rather lightly for a woman with child. "Would be nice to have a party with them after the baby's born."

"Mmmm – just be nice to get back home," Victor admitted quietly. "I mean, this isn't horrible, and the picnic and Doc's shop have been nice, but. . .Hill Valley's – not what I expected."

"Me either," Alice agreed softly as they headed down the double line. "I'm willing to endure the less-pleasant aspects right now for Doc and Marty's sake – but I think they'll agree that it'll probably be better for _them_ to visit _us_ in the future."

"Now bow to your partner – you're through!"

The dance came to an end in a cacophony of cheers, laughter, and applause, most people giving each other one final bow before the lines dissolved. Victor spotted Doc nearby and waved to him as the band prepared their next song. "Doc!"

"Victor!" Doc made his way over, Clara on this arm. "Sorry I didn't get a chance to speak to you during the dance! I _did_ intend to meet up with you all again, but Clara and I – well–"

"It's fine, Doc, we get it," Marty assured him, grinning. "We didn't miss you for long, trust me." He tipped his hat to Clara. "Hey, Clara. Enjoying the party so far?"

"It's been wonderful," Clara nodded, looking up at Doc with a warm smile. "Everyone's been very friendly."

"Hopefully it stays that way," Alice murmured to Victor, jerking her head toward a few couples who were watching and whispering. Louder, she said, "You know, Doc, Marty was under the impression that you couldn't dance."

"Hey, I'd never _seen_ him dance before!" Marty defended himself. "You usually sit out this kind of thing, Doc. I figured it wasn't your thing."

"It's not, usually," Doc admitted. "But Clara was interested, and I did have a few lessons growing up – mostly in _ballroom_ dance admittedly, but still." He winked. "Besides, this whole week has been full of surprises – what's one more?"

"If that was really your first time square-dancing, you did very well," Clara assured him. "Shall we have another before hitting the buffet?"

"I don't see why not?" Doc said, gaze lovey-dovey. "How about the rest of you? Staying in for the next one?"

"Why, is that old Master McFly I see among us? Son! Sonny boy!"

The group turned to see a man just off to the side of the dance floor, in a bowler hat and checkered vest, waving at Marty. "Your friend who sells the guns?" Victor asked.

"That'd be him – hey, Mr. Johnson!" Marty called, waving back. "I'll be down in a second! Sorry, Clara, duty calls," he added, giving her a rakish grin. "Gotta go help Johnson drum up business for his twelve-dollar guns. Still up for a contest, Christopher?"

"Of course – as long as Victoria doesn't mind," Christopher said, nodding at his wife. "Would you prefer another dance, my dear?"

"Not really – that last one rather wore me out," Victoria admitted, fanning herself with her hand. "Not to mention I'm worried about running into people again. . .I'd rather have a break."

" _I_ still want to see Richard take on Starkey," Jennifer said, bouncing on her heels. "Man against – er – well, still man, just with machine arms, I guess. . . ."

"Nice save," Richard said with a naughty smile. "But since you don't seem to be giving up on the idea, I guess I should at least go and see if he's willing." He took off his hat and examined it. "Maybe it would be more fair if I had him wrestle the one in here?"

"Won't know unless you ask," Emily said, taking one of the arms currently attached to his shoulder. "Should we all meet by the buffet afterwards?"

"Sounds good to me," Victor said. "What about you, Alice?"

"I want to see this shooting gallery – it must be quite the thing, given the way Marty's been talking it up," Alice replied. "Even if I must refrain from participating in the contest, I can at least watch."

"All right then – see you by the buffet," Victor said, nodding to the others.

"We'll be there," Doc promised at the music started up again. "Clara?"

"Have fun!" Clara said, waving to them as she and Doc walked back to the other dancers.

"We'll see you in a little bit!" Jennifer said, tugging on Richard's sleeve.

"Wish me luck!" Richard said, following her down the steps, Emily behind them. "Or him luck – he'll probably need it more than me!"

"Have some good luck in general, then!" Alice shouted after him.

"See you soon!" Marty called, waving, before turning back to Mr. Johnson. "Okay, Johnson, you've got my full attention now. Let's do this."

"Wonderful," Johnson said brightly. He swept his arm down the stairs. "If you could all step this way?"

Victor and Alice followed Marty, Christopher, and Victoria down the stairs to a mobile booth set up in a little nook beside the dance floor. A sign over the top declared that it sold "Samuel Colt's Patent Firearms" in red and gold. Doors on either side of the booth displayed a variety of handguns, while the inside was painted with the facade of a western town much like Hill Valley itself – though this one sported quite a few more bullet holes. Three tin cowboys rose and fell in random patterns along the bottom, tiny glittering tin hearts in their chest, while ducks flew lazily along the top, driven by hidden gears. Beneath all this, a rather more visible array of clockwork and chain sent rabbits scurrying in a never-ending loop. "Good construction," Christopher commented, leaning in for a better look. "You did an excellent job with the gears. We should have encouraged Richard to stick around – he would have appreciated this."

"I ain't going anywhere anytime soon – if he wants to try his luck later, he's welcome to come by," Mr. Johnson assured him. He clapped his hands together. "Now then – I heard something about a contest between you and Master McFly here?"

"Yeah – this is Sir Christopher Lloyd, by the way," Marty said, with a little wave. "And this is his wife, Victoria, and that's Victor and Alice Van Dort. They're friends of mine from back in Secundus."

"Very nice to meet you," Victoria said with a curtsy, while Victor and Alice nodded.

"Oh, so you're the folks from the city he was talking about last year, saying they'd like a gander at my booth," Mr. Johnson said. He tilted his head at Christopher. "Didn't think Touched went in for just regular old firearms."

"I've modified a Colt or two in my day," Christopher confirmed. "But I'm a military man as well, so I have to know something about ordinary ballistics. Not to mention, I've had more esoteric weapons fail on me at critical moments. . . ."

"Same here," Alice said. "There's a reason the most well-used of my own arsenal is the Vorpal Blade."

Johnson's eyes went to Alice's stomach. "Hope you haven't had much cause to use it lately."

"I've taken myself out of the game, which is why I'm not playing here," Alice said, holding up a hand. "My husband has all those worries more than under control, I assure you."

"I do," Victor admitted.

"Yeah, trust me, if she wasn't in her current condition, I'd definitely be getting her to try," Marty told Johnson. "But as it is, Christopher's a pretty good shot." He grinned. "I just don't know if he's as good as me."

"I'm up for the challenge – and have been since before you were born," Christopher said, sweeping off Marty's hat and ruffling his hair.

"Ha! What I like to see," Johnson declared, grinning. "Then let's set the rules. Each of you fine gentlemen gets one turn each, and the use of two of my finest Colt Peacemakers." He held up the gun in question, making sure everyone in the gathering crowd got a good look. "Fully loaded, six bullets in each. That's twelve shots for each of you. Whoever hits the most targets, wins!"

"Wins what?" a voice piped up.

"Free gun?" Marty suggested, smirking.

Mr. Johnson laughed. "I ain't made of money, Master McFly!" He picked up a leather gun belt and waved it around. "I'll offer this up – free holster. How about that?"

"It'll do." Marty looked at Christopher, nodding at the gallery. "You first?"

"No, no, you," Christopher said, waving him forward. "You're already familiar with this mechanism. I'd like the time to observe."

"Okay, suit yourself." Marty stepped up and grabbed the first gun, aiming it square in the middle of the booth. "Tell me when, Johnson."

Johnson held up a finger, pulling out his watch. "Aaaaaaand. . . ." He whipped the digit forward, in perfect time with the rise of the middle cowboy. "GO!"

 _BANG!_ The tin man's heart promptly started spinning like a top. _BANG!_ The cowboy on the left, only just rising, was sent back to his maker. _BANG!_ A duck fell this time, caught in mid-air. _BANG!_ The cowboy on the right fell back to earth – _BANG!_ And so did the man on the left, back for another round. _BANG!_ A second duck dropped, knocked out of the line – Marty twirled the emptied gun around his finger, handed it handle-first to Johnson for reloading, then scooped up the second and went right back to work. _BANG!_ The middle cowboy again, having not learned his lesson the first time. _BANG!_ Another unfortunate duck fell like a stone. _BANG!_ The fellow on the left, refusing to stay down no matter how many times his heart took a beating. _BANG! BANG! BANG!_

And, right in a row, three rabbits on the bottom were no more. Everyone applauded as Marty took a bow. " _Very_ impressive!" Alice called over the clapping. "You _have_ practiced a lot, haven't you?"

"Hey, when you live on a farm, you learn to appreciate the fun in shooting tin cans off a fence," Marty grinned.

"Excellent work," Christopher said, clapping him on the back. "And not one miss! I'll have to figure out how to get two targets with one bullet if I want to win."

"Hey, if you can pull that off, you _deserve_ the free holster."

"Mm – let's see how he does," Mr. Johnson said, finishing his reloading. He put the guns back into place, then waved Christopher into position. "When you're ready, sir! Aaaaand – GO!"

 _BANG!_ Christopher proved as quick on the draw as Marty, sending the rightmost cowboy's heart spinning. _BANG!_ And there went the leftmost cowboy again. . . _BANG! BANG!_ Two ducks, right in a row. Christopher turned his attention to the rabbits, lining up the gun with a look of concentration Victor normally only saw when he was at his workbench. He gritted his teeth, then – _BANG!_

 _Two_ rabbits dropped, felled in tandem. Christopher beamed as the crowd offered up a chorus of gasps, cheers, and boos. "How'd he do that?" an unseen man demanded.

"All in the timing!" Christopher declared, sporting a cocky grin as he took aim at a second pair of rabbits. "And a steady wrist! Watch and learn, folks!" _BANG!_

The rabbits scampered away, leaving the bullet to drill a fresh hole into the wagon itself. The grin disappeared as scattered bits of laughter flitted through the crowd. "Damn it, half a second off. . . ."

"You've still got another gun!" Victoria reminded him.

"Right!" Christopher passed his emptied Colt back to Mr. Johnson and grabbed the other. _BANG!_ Middle cowboy again. _BANG!_ Leftmost cowboy, a glutton for punishment. _BANG!_ One duck – _BANG!_ Two ducks. Christopher went for the rabbits again, jaw clenched tight as he took careful aim – _BANG!_

One rabbit fell, its mate hurrying on. Grumbling, Christopher brought the right cowboy low again with a final _BANG!_ "And I thought I had that one too. . . ."

"It's all right, dear," Victoria said, stretching onto tiptoe to kiss his cheek. "You made a very good show regardless."

"Yes – it's a tie, isn't it?" Victor said, looking between the two. "Marty may have got all twelve, but your double shot made up for the one you missed."

"True, which means we don't have a loser," Mr. Johnson said, tucking his thumbs into his lapels. "But that also means we don't have a winner, neither." He waggled his eyebrows. "Unless you boys want one holster to share."

"Ha ha, you old skinflint," Marty said, rolling his eyes. "Should have known better than to think you'd part with any of your junk for free."

"Hey, I'm just going by the rules," Mr. Johnson said, holding up his hands. "Ain't my fault you're both as good as you say you are."

"Yeah. . . ." Marty frowned, looking over at Christopher. "But you know what? Even if you missed right after, you _got_ that 'two for one' shot. I'm standing by what I said before – give him the holster, Johnson. He's earned it."

"That was some pretty sharp shooting!" someone in the crowd agreed.

"Yes, give him the holster!" a lady near the front nodded. "He did so well!"

"You promised them a prize – now pay up!" another fellow called.

"It does only seem fair," Alice agreed. "Surely it won't kill you to hand it over?"

"All right, all right. . .for the man who pulled off a fine bit of shooting!" he declared, presenting the holster to Christopher. "But if you want a gun to fill it, that's another matter." He gestured to the guns, sitting on the gallery again. "Though these lovely Peacemakers _are_ for sale. . . ."

"I suppose it wouldn't hurt to take a look," Christopher said, trying the holster's belt around his waist. "You didn't do have to do this, Marty. I was happy with the tie."

Marty shrugged. "I said what I said, and I wanted _somebody_ to win. Besides, it was pretty awesome how you picked off two rabbits with one go. You're gonna have to show me the trick."

"If I can replicate it – and that," Christopher added, jerking his head toward the gallery. "Though it doesn't _look_ like a particularly complicated collection of mechanisms. . . ."

"I'm not sure Mr. Johnson wants you poking around his mechanics, dear," Victoria said as Johnson slid a little closer to his booth. "I'm sure you can figure it out on your own."

"Indeed," Christopher said, grinning. He flapped the holster at Marty. "And perhaps you'll find this wrapped up as a wedding present come Monday."

"No, no – you keep it," Marty said, holding up his hands. "You earned it, seriously."

"Hey, if you want to buy him one, I've got a whole range of – wait. _Wedding_?" Johnson blinked, turning to Marty. "Land's sake, son, you're getting _married_?!"

"Yeah – me and Jennifer are finally tying the knot Monday morning," Marty confirmed. "That's the whole reason everybody's here! Victor back there is gonna be co-best man with Doc."

"Really? Why didn't you mention that first thing, Master – no, _Mister_ McFly?" Johnson demanded, hands on his hips. "Making me look like a fool, not knowing what's going on with my favorite shooter. . . ." He shook his head, then snatched up a gun belt, complete with a Peacemaker, and tossed it to Marty. "Here. On the house."

Marty caught the belt on automatic, eyes wide. "What – you – _seriously_?!"

"Dead serious. You've been shooting with me as long as you've been with that little girl," Johnson told him, arms folded but with the most genuine smile Victor had seen on his face all night. "Least I can do."

"Holy – _thanks_!" Marty wrapped the belt around his waist, trying the fit. "That's – honestly, that's super generous of you. Thanks a lot."

"Oh, think nothing of it," Johnson said, waving his hand magnanimously. "I'll make it up sooner or later." He winked at the crowd. "If you fine people wouldn't mind helping a feller out?"

Laughter ripped through the attendees, and a few gentlemen made their way up to inspect the wares and try their hand at the shooting gallery. "That _was_ nice of him," Victor noted as Christopher, Victoria, and Marty backed away.

"Yeah, tell me about it," Marty said, buckling the belt before tying the holster in place against his leg. "I mean, I've made plenty of jokes about him owing me free stuff before, but I never thought he'd actually _deliver_."

"To be fair, that was as much free advertising as a genuine present," Alice pointed out.

"Yeah, but who cares? Guy's gotta make a living; I ain't gonna get on him for that." Marty twisted his neck around, checking out the belt from all angles. "And with a gun too. . .I should wear this to the wedding," he added with a grin. "You know, like a trophy."

"I don't know if Jennifer would like that," Victoria pointed out, unable to help a smile. "Or Reverend Warwick, for that matter."

"Eh, good point – guess I should just stick with the suit." Marty nodded at Christopher's prize. "How about you? You happy with that holster?"

"It seems well-made," Christopher nodded, massaging the leather between thumb and forefinger. "For all his bluster, Mr. Johnson seems to sell quality goods." He glanced over his shoulder. "I might just go back later and have another look at the guns. And another round on the gallery."

"Fun, isn't it?" Marty nudged Victor. "Maybe we can talk you into having a go."

"If you want me to take out one of the spectators, sure," Victor deadpanned.

"Hey, the very first time I tried it out, I fired a wild shot right over the booth! I mean, yeah, Johnson forced the gun into my off hand, which didn't help, but. . . ."

"I don't believe this!"

Everyone looked up as a scowling Richard stomped over, followed by a giggling Emily and a smirking Jennifer. "Er – don't believe what?" Victor asked, looking between the three.

"Starkey beat him," Jennifer explained, snickering. " _Twice_."

"He defeated the hat arm handily, if you'll excuse the pun," Emily elaborated through a big grin. "So Richard decided to try his actual arm."

"I _almost_ had him, too," Richard groused, flexing his fingers. "He was practically on the wood! And then, all of a sudden, he twists his arm, dislodges my elbow, and _bam_!" He slapped his leg for emphasis. "Practically flipped me over, the brute!"

"Oh, he did not," Emily said, patting his back. "Don't be so sour, dear – you made Mr. Starkey very happy."

"Oh yeah – he's gonna eat out on that story for _months_ ," Jennifer confirmed. "Confirmed to be stronger than steel! And you definitely gave him a good fight, if it helps your pride." She crossed over to Marty, kissing his cheek. "So, how'd the contest – what's that?" she cut herself off, suddenly noticing his new accessory. "Did you actually _buy_ a gun?"

"Wedding present, actually," Marty said, proudly cocking his hips. "From Johnson himself! Once he heard you and I were getting hitched, he felt like he owed me."

"The contest itself went well," Alice provided. "Christopher and Marty tied, but Marty insisted Christopher take the prize because he pulled off a nice trick shot."

"And so I have a lovely holster, courtesy of my opponent," Christopher said, holding it up. "It was quite fun, honestly! As I was saying before, I'm tempted to go back and have a look at the mechanisms involved, to see if I could set up something similar at home. Just to keep my eye in." He rubbed the tip of his chin. "In fact, I could probably make it even _bigger_. . . ."

"Please leave us _one_ spare bedroom," Victoria said, fondly tugging at his sleeve. "We do have guests over from time to time, after all."

"Oh, no, no, I'd be doing this outside – more room, and safer to boot." Christopher's eyes strayed to Alice's belly as he slipped his arm around his wife. "Besides – hopefully, we have other plans for those bedrooms."

"Well, if you buy something, Johnson might let you have a look," Jennifer said, admiring the holster. "Just don't get too mad-sciencey on him. . .sheesh, I never expected him to give away _anything_ ," she added, turning her attention to Marty's belt. "And here's two holsters and a gun! I'll have to pop by and thank him."

"Later," Alice said, pulling Victor toward the buffet. "For now, food. Just watching all of this has worked up my appetite."

"Yeah, let's get over there before all the good stuff is gone," Marty agreed, looping his arm through Jennifer's. "Mrs. Shaw's pies _never_ last past the first hour. . . ."

Fortunately, there was still an excellent selection of victuals available as they descended upon the tables. Alice grabbed a plate and promptly began piling as much fried chicken as she could upon it. "Someone else _might_ want some of that," Victor said, taking a slice of chicken-fried steak.

"They can fight me for it," Alice responded, taking a bite out of a piece before adding it to the stack. "They're not eating for two." She moved onto the roasted potatoes, building herself a mound. "What about that pie?"

"Over here!" Seamus said, waving them over. "There's two slices left! Along with almost a whole blackberry pie, if anyone wants that."

"I'll start with the strawberry-apple, then see how I feel." Alice moved the potatoes out of the way, then marched over to Seamus, who scooped a crumbling slice into place. "Thank you kindly." She swiped her finger through the oozing filling, sampled it, and nodded. "Mmmm – now that's the stuff."

"This is really good too," Victor said, grabbing a quick scoop of potatoes before trying his steak. "I didn't expect breaded beef to be so nice!"

"Yeah – if there's one thing Hill Valley does right, it's food," Marty said, snatching the last slice of strawberry-apple pie. He held up the stained tin. "Hey, wanna see something neat you can do with these?"

"Sure," Alice said, already on her second piece of chicken.

"Awesome – hey, Richard! Catch!"

Richard looked up, just in time to see Marty flick the pie tin out of his hand and send it sailing down the table toward him. He quickly shifted his plate to his left hand and snagged the flying tin with his right. "Caught!" he declared, holding it up.

"How'd you do that?" Victor asked, sufficiently impressed.

"All in the wrist," Marty declared with a smirk. "I'll show you how later, if you want. Dave and Linda and me used to toss 'em around all the time growing up. I swear, all Frisbie has to do is sell them as toys instead of pie tins, and they'd make a mint."

Victor laughed, going back to his steak. "Well, I don't know how much of a market there is for–"

"Victor!"

Alice snatched his arm and yanked him sideways, causing him to stumble and bump the table, his plate going flying. Before he could ask what on earth had come over her, a bottle sailed through the spot where his head had been, followed by the arm of a startled Gordon Tannen. "Shit – why are you _never_ alone?!" he demanded, rocking from the momentum of the swing but managing to keep his feet and his weapon.

"Because I'm married now, and came here in a group?" Victor pointed out, breathing hard. Around them, heads started to turn and crane, wondering what was going on. "Oh, I was _so_ hoping I'd seen the last of you. . . ."

"What the hell are you trying to pull, Tannen?" Marty demanded, making a grab for Gordon's arm. He managed to dodge with a little hop-skip sideways.

"Tannen?" Richard looked over at the tableau. "Ah, the smaller one. Is dear old uncle or whatever he is around too?"

"Who gives a damn about him?! _I'm_ the one you should worry about!" Gordon smashed the bottle against the table, glass flying everywhere and startling more people into observing the growing drama. He swiped the newly-jagged edge at Victor, who dodged him with practiced ease. "I'm gonna cut you to ribbons, Can Dort! You _and_ your stupid wife!"

"You haven't managed it yet!" Victor replied, doing his best to keep himself between Gordon and Alice. "On me _or_ her!" _Oh God, but if you_ do _get one good hit on her. . .or the baby. . .I'll ruin him, I'll bloody_ destroy _him if he hurts them. . . ._

"And he's not going to now!"

Christopher appeared, slamming down his plate and marching over to Gordon. Gordon turned the bottle on him in an artless lunge – Christopher caught his arm as it came forward and gave his wrist a solid twist. Gordon yelped and released his weapon. "I'm a decorated war veteran," Christopher continued, spinning Gordon around and pinning his arm behind his back. "I know a thing or two about disarming people – and I _owe_ you after what you did before!"

"Screw you!" Gordon screamed, kicking at his shin. Christopher winced but held his grip. "Lousy Madboy like you probably killed more of our guys than the enemy!"

"Excuse me, there are _ladies_ present!" Maggie's voice rose above the growing hubbub.

"I think that he just tried to stab my husband and one of my best friends trumps his language, Mrs. McFly," Alice said, squeezing Victor's arm protectively. "But if you're that determined to see him punished for rude words, could you perhaps fetch Marshall Strickland?"

"Seamus and Artie are already on their way to get him," Maggie said, picking her way through the crowd. She hit Gordon with her hardest glare, back straight as a ramrod. "You have _some_ nerve! Trying to start an all-out _brawl_ at our town festival! But I wouldn't expect anything less from a Tannen."

" _They've_ got some nerve, walking around acting like they're normal people!" Gordon snapped back, swinging his head around to encompass Richard, Victor, and Christopher in one go. "I mean, you've _seen_ that mechanical freak, right? And his wife? They should be on _display_ somewhere, not allowed to wander around with regular folks!"

"Oh, get some new material – we've already heard that," Richard said, rolling his eyes. "Multiple times!"

"And this guy – what's someone _his_ age doing marrying some heiress, right? Or her marrying him? Especially with him suggesting stuff like gunpowder pudding!"

"We've actually _tried_ that – it's pretty good so long as you're careful cooking it!" Victoria snapped. "And we married for love, which is probably not something you're ever going to find!"

"Better alone forever than hitched to a lunatic! Especially one like Can Dort!" He turned a ferocious snarl on Victor. "Your wife know what you're capable of? She know about the things you do to people? Want me to tell her about the _spiders_ , Can Dort? The ones you injected into some poor lady back in that hellhole you call a city? The ones that _ate her alive from the inside out_?"

The air around them filled with astonished whispers, people looking from Gordon to Victor and back with wide eyes. Even Maggie seemed unsettled, backing away a small but significant step. Victor swallowed hard, fighting back the image of millions of little legs, and the high-pitched scream that still haunted his nightmares. "I – I don't remember–"

"Oh, _suuuure_ you don't," Gordon mocked, keeping eye contact. "That's why you _bragged_ about it in the Palace Saloon. Threatened to do the same to me if I kept ticking you off."

"He did, too!" That was Jeb, standing at the edge of the crowd with a plate of steak in his hands and his two friends by his side. "I heard him! You should have seen his eyes when he did it! Wild! Like he wanted to turn that boy into mincemeat!"

"Then he tried to unleash some leapin' monster on us!" Zeke agreed, waving his hat. "And a giant rat!"

"Lightning and the Grasshopper Teapot were _harmless_ and you know it!" Alice shouted, fingernails digging into Victor's jacket sleeve. "And Victor didn't even know the latter was there! He did his best to keep it out of everyone's way! And don't the rest of you believe this arse when he says Victor killed some innocent woman!" she added, turning to the crowd. "I saw those spiders – they were to fight back against the Queen of Hearts! A tentacled, megalomaniac monster that held the entire city of Secundus hostage! Victor did what he did to save thousands of lives – including my own!"

"Yeah, I bet he _makes_ you say that," Gordon retorted, squirming against Christopher's grip. He jerked his head at Alice's belly. "That an _actual_ baby in there, Can Dort? Or some sort of grub that's gonna chew its way outta her?"

And just like that, the anxiety and horror were gone, replaced with white-hot rage. "You _dare_ imply I would experiment on my own _wife_?" he growled, stepping forward with fists clenched. Gordon went pale, apparently suddenly realizing he was a lot closer to Victor that he'd realized. "If I was going to use _anyone_ as a breeding ground for vermin, it would be _you_. The world would be a better place if you were nothing but worm food!"

The crowd pulled back, people exchanging anxious glances and murmuring to each other. "Easy, Victor," Christopher said, as Alice tugged gently on his arm. "He's _trying_ to get a rise out of you."

"Oh yeah, like you're the sensible one," Gordon scoffed. "I dunno _how_ you managed to trick the Queen, but the rest of us can see you for what you are! Maybe you're not as much of a freak as tin can man and his rotten wife, or Can Dort and his bugs, but you're still one of _them_! White Knight my arse – you make half the monsters you claim to take down, I bet!"

"I am always very honest about when I have to defeat one of my own experiments," Christopher said, gritting his teeth.

"My husband is a hero, Mr. Tannen," Victoria added archly. "He saved me during that debacle with the Queen, and he's helped out countless others, regardless of how they felt about Touched. You are nothing but a jealous small-town bully."

"And if you don't shut up and stop antagonizing my friends, this Regular old human being will _make_ you," Marty added, holding up a fist. "Darn it, where the heck is Strickland?"

_WHUMP!_

Startled, Victor spun toward the source of the noise. Standing on the dance floor, in the middle of a circle of terrified-looking people, was a snarling Buford Tannen. And on the boards in front of him, wincing as she rubbed her ankle, was – "Clara?!"

"What happened?" Emily demanded, standing on tiptoe. "Is she all right?"

"Stop it!"

Doc suddenly appeared from the sidelines, dragging a few scruffy-looking men with him as they attempted to hold him back. "Stop! Damn you, Tannen!"

"No," Buford replied, lifting his hand like the wrath of God. Victor's anger was snuffed out in a moment of icy horror as he spotted the tiny gun tucked into Buford's fist. "I damn you. I damn you – to _hell_!"

The scruffy men scattered. Clara clamped a hand over her mouth to cover a scream. Richard scrambled wildly for something in his hat. Victor bolted for the stage, not sure exactly what he was going to do but praying his long legs would get him there before Buford fired –

Something round and silver came flying past him, smacking into Buford's hand just as the gun went off. The shot jerked upward, blowing Doc's hat off his head but leaving him, thankfully, unhurt. "What the – you!" Buford roared, spotting Victor at the foot of the stairs. "You do that, fish man?!"

"No, me!" Marty pushed past him, eyes dark under his hat. "What's the matter, Tannen? Never seen a pie tin before?"

"Oh, _great_ job!" Gordon yelled, trying again to kick himself free of Christopher. "One shot, and you _miss_! We nearly got our heads blown off by the guy with the shotgun for that!"

"Least _I'm_ not getting my behind whooped by some creaky old-timer!" Buford returned, shoving the tiny gun into a pocket. Behind him, Victor saw Doc helping Clara back to her feet. "You and your bottle didn't do _shit_!"

"How _did_ you get a gun into the party?" Richard asked, holding up his hand. "Honestly curious."

"I have my ways," Buford responded, waving him off in favor of glaring at Marty. "So, runt – you man enough to go up against me with more than just a pie plate?"

For a split second, Victor saw Marty's eyes drift down to the gun he'd gotten off Johnson. Then he turned and looked at Jennifer, watching the scene with clasped hands. "Just – leave my friends alone," he said, shaking his head.

Buford smirked. "All you got to say, McFly? Heh – you _yella_?"

"Engaged, actually," Marty spat back. "Trust me, I'd _love_ to settle this once and for all in front of the Palace Saloon at high noon and all that, but I'm getting married on Monday. Not letting you wreck that."

"Married?" Buford shared a baffled look with the scruffy men who had been hanging onto Doc – Victor guessed they were the gang Doc had mentioned before. "Who'd wanna marry _you_? You're almost as bad as the blacksmith."

"Hey, the old-timer over here landed a lady with a _title_ ," Gordon told him. "I don't know _how_ they do it."

"It's called being in love, not that I expect either of _you_ to know what that looks like," Emily said, folding her arms. "Richard, darling, perhaps the older Mr. Tannen over there could use a lesson in manners, like the one you tried to give him before?"

"Oh, my _pleasure_ , teacup," Richard replied, replacing his hat. He took the steps up to the dance floor in a single stride, scooping Buford up by the collar before he could get away. The gang members gaped, unwilling either to run or get nearer. "Now, I'm not _entirely_ sure what happened between you and poor Miss Clayton down there, but considering it ended with Doc screaming at you to 'leave her alone,' I think I can take a guess it wasn't pleasant." He gave Buford a little shake. "Sooo, what do we–"

 _KA-CLICK!_ "All right, all right, what's going on here?"

Marshall Strickland threaded his way through the band, a nasty-looking shotgun in his hand. "I heard that a certain Mr. Tannen was causing trouble–"

He stopped, staring at the scene before him as Seamus and Artie caught up. Then he shook his head rapidly and leveled a severe look at Richard. "Mr. Dodgson! You put him down!"

"That asshole just tried to _shoot_ Doc!" Marty protested.

"Language!" Maggie scolded, holding up a finger.

"If he did, then it's a matter for the law!" Strickland rejoined. "You can't just take justice into your own hands! Down, Mr. Dodgson! I'll make sure he doesn't run."

Richard sulkily lowered Buford back to the boards. Strickland nodded, then turned his eagle eye on Christopher. "You too, Mr. Lloyd! Let the boy go!"

" _Sir_ Lloyd," Christopher muttered, but released his captive. Gordon promptly turned and gave him a hard shove. "Hey!"

"Don't start anything!" Strickland warned, bringing up the shotgun. "Any brawling, it's fifteen days in the county jail!"

"Great – lock them both up!" Jennifer yelled, pointing at each Tannen in turn. "Gordon here tried to clock Victor over the head with a bottle, then smashed it and threatened both Christopher _and_ Alice! A pregnant woman! And Marty's right – Buford just about blew Doc's head off!"

"We all saw it clear as day, Marshall!" Maggie backed her up. "They were causin' as much trouble as they could!"

The dancers and buffet-goers murmured agreement. "Is that so?" Strickland said. "Well then, Mr. Tannen, Mr. Tannen – I think I'd better escort you out of this party." His finger edged toward the shotgun's trigger. "You boys going to come quietly?"

For a moment, it looked like Buford was going to do anything but – then he glanced over, and noticed that his backup, apart from Gordon, had melted into the crowd. He scowled, then huffed and raised his hands above his head. "Let's go, limey," he said, nodding at Gordon. "Let these sissies have their party."

"Uh – but – we didn't–" Gordon started, with an anxious jerk of his head toward Victor.

"Forget it," Buford cut him off. "I don't care anymore. Never had anything against the fish man. He makes a fuss, I can take the dumb dead-walker." He shot a venomous look Doc's way. "And I ain't getting my neck broken for Brown. Not _tonight_ , anyway."

"Well, look at that – some common sense from you for once, Tannen," Strickland said, approaching them. "Never thought I'd see the day." He gestured with the gun at Gordon. "Come on, young one, hands on your head. . .that's right. And now you two just move along – no sudden movements, or I'll have your heads." He grinned briefly at the crowd. "And as for the rest of you – well, this is a party! Go on and have some fun!"

The band took this as their cue, spinning their instruments in a surprising feat of dexterity before launching into a fresh tune. The assembled citizenry no longer seemed interested in dancing, however – everyone was instead banding together in little groups, whispering and glancing anxiously at Doc and Clara, Richard and Emily, Christopher and Victoria, Marty and Jennifer, and Victor and Alice – whoever was closest. Victor fidgeted as each unfriendly gaze bored into him. "I – I think w-we should go," he suggested quietly, eyes on his shoes.

"Yes, the festival doesn't really feel that welcoming anymore," Christopher agreed, knotting his fingers together as Jeb and Zeke frowned hard in their direction.

"Tell me about it – hey, Doc, you okay?" Marty asked, mounting the steps to meet his best friend.

"Better than I could be," Doc replied, finally locating his hat on the dance floor. He examined the bullet hole blown through it. "That was quite the feat, Marty."

"Yes – thank you so much for your gallantry," Clara said, clinging to Doc's arm. "For a second, I – I thought for sure. . . ." She bit her lip, then shook her head. "It doesn't bear thinking about."

"Maybe that should be Frisbie's new line – personal defense pie tins," Jennifer weakly joked, joining them. "How are you doing, Clara?"

"I turned my ankle when that brute shoved me over," Clara admitted, rubbing her leg. "But I'm all right, really. At the very least, I can walk."

"What an arse," Emily muttered.

"Oh he had reason to be angry – I _had_ just kicked him," Clara confessed with a brief, tiny smile. "I just wish I'd gotten him to drop the gun in the bargain."

"If only – what even happened?" Victor asked, pulling at his tie. "We only noticed Buford after he drew on Doc."

"I'll tell you about it in the morning," Doc promised, replacing his hat. "For now, I'd just like to take Clara home." He shared a sad nod with his date. "The festival's rather lost its allure."

"Yeah, we're planning on skedaddling too," Marty said, glancing around at the still-whispering groups. "You gonna be okay making that trip? I mean – it is pretty dark. . . ."

"I could stay in your shop if worse came to worst?" Clara suggested, sounding pretty fond of the idea.

Doc went pink. "Well, ah. . .I do only have the _one_ bed. . . ."

"And I don't think anyone's going to think it proper if they see you going in there with him," Maggie added, coming up behind Victor and giving him a start. "Last thing you need is any rumors goin' round."

"Strickland has the Tannens under control," Doc agreed, regaining his composure. "And we can at least stop by the shop briefly to pick up the Terminator and a few good lanterns. I think we'll be fine." He tipped his hat to the others. "I'll see you tomorrow."

"It was good to see you all again," Clara said, curtsying (and only wobbling a little). "I only wish we'd had more time all together. Seems a shame to end the night under _these_ circumstances."

"I know," Victoria said, shaking her head. "Two dances and barely a supper. I wouldn't trust the food now that Gordon's smashed a bottle right next to it."

"We managed some fun before it all went to pot," Alice said, twitching her skirts upward. "That's better than nothing, I suppose."

"And we're glad _you_ had a good time, at least," Emily added, smiling.

"Indeed – don't forget to pick up your telescope before you go!" Richard said with a brightly, slightly-evil grin.

"My – oh, yes," Clara said, going red around the ears. "Almost forgot."

"Yes, ah, thank you, Richard," Doc said, staring up at the sky.

"Oh, you're welcome," Richard replied, eyes sparkling. "I mean, you worked so hard on it! I would hate for you to – ow!"

"Have a lovely night," Victoria said, lowering her elbow in favor of a curtsy of her own. "And safe journeys."

"You as well," Clara said, biting back a giggle at Richard's injured expression. "Good evening, everyone."

"Safe trip back to the farm," Doc agreed, nodding.

"Sure, if people stop _elbowing_ me," Richard groused as the couple headed off. "You're not even married to me! I'm not allowed to tease him a _little_?"

"You are _entirely_ too hung up on that telescope, that's all," Victoria retorted, though a smile was playing around her lips. "Emily and I do what we must to keep you in check."

"Exactly," Emily agreed, before sighing and folding her hands together. "I hope she's really all right," she said, watching Clara and Doc disappear into the crowd. "Not just putting on a brave face. Seeing her on the ground like that. . .it brought back some – bad memories."

"She seemed to be walking all right, at least," Christopher assured her, as Richard went to wrap an arm around her shoulders. "And Doc didn't appear overly-concerned about her state of being – and considering we already know the depths of their feelings for each other after a mere couple of days, I think we can go by his reaction." He huffed, running his fingers through his hair. "At least Strickland brought them under control. I seriously thought for a moment he was going to have to use the shotgun on Buford – and I wasn't exactly sorry about it. Which is awful of me, I know. . . ."

"Well, it was awful of me too," Victoria told him, leaning her head against his arm. "I know we haven't actually seen that much of them, but considering how they constantly seem to be trying to hurt at least one of us. . ." She sighed and shook her head. "I hope Strickland locks them up for the full fifteen days. I'd feel much safer."

"He should – he's pretty dependable that way," Jennifer said, before turning to Marty with a frown. "But I really wish you hadn't told them we were getting married. I wouldn't put it past either of those jerks to find a way to crash our wedding."

"Yeah. . .I'll talk to Grampa and Uncle Artie about it," Marty said, nodding at Seamus and Artie as they worked their way over to them. "Dad and Uncle William too. Maybe we can get a couple of farmhands to stand as guards? And I can give Warwick a head's up at the rehearsal. He might know a few people willing to help keep Buford or Gordon out of the church." He took her hand and squeezed it. "I don't care what happens, though. Come Hell or high water or gate-crashing Tannens, we _are_ getting married on Monday."

Victor squirmed, digging a foot into the dirt. "I – I'm sorry," he blurted, hands twisting his tie into a noose. "I s-should have n-never let Gordon get to me. If I'd j-just–"

Alice covered his mouth. "Your irrational guilt is showing dear," she told him, voice calm but firm. "I forbid you to blame yourself for any of this. _He_ came after _you_ with that bottle. _He_ was the one who started saying all those horrible things."

"And you certainly had nothing to do with Buford's part in it all," Christopher reminded him. "All you were doing was trying to defend your wife."

"I don't mean tonight! I meant back when we first met him, at the saloon! If I hadn't let my temper t-take control, hadn't – hadn't told him h-how I killed the Queen. . . ." He dropped his head, biting his lip against the tears. "I w-would _never_ do that again. _Ever_. You believe m-me, right?"

"Of _course_ we do," Emily said, coming around to pat his back. "You're not that kind of person."

"I was in the saloon." Victor rubbed his face. "I can't believe I told him that."

". . .actually, you didn't."

Victor looked up to see Alice regarding him with an increasingly puzzled look. "What?"

"You didn't," she repeated. "Victor – you only said that you'd _killed_ the Queen, when you were doing your grand old speech. You never said _how_."

Victor blinked. Blinked again. Hastily pulled up the memory from where he'd stuffed in the back of his mind and reviewed it. _"_ I _slaughtered her like the monster she was._ I _ripped her apart to the very_ bone _!"_ Damning words indeed. . .but. . . . "I didn't!" he confirmed, eyes wide. "So how – how did he find out?"

The others exchanged baffled looks of their own. "I – huh," Christopher said, tapping his fingers against his chin. "That is a conundrum. Who the hell could have told him? I wouldn't think anyone in Hill Valley would know."

"At least before tonight," Victor muttered, looking around at the judgmental eyes glaring at him from all directions. His gaze met Maggie's, and he added, "Please, I promise, it – it was just the once! I was n-newly Touched, and I was a-angry, and she was – she could have–"

"I don't want to know any more about it," Maggie said, holding up a hand. "My grandson trusts you. That'll be good enough for me."

"Thanks, Gramma – and Victor, I've said it before and I'll say it again," Marty continued, turning back toward his friend. "You _saved our lives_ with that Invention. They were creepy as all heck, I'm not gonna lie, but all in all? Glad you made 'em."

"You are one of the most moral, good-hearted men I've ever met in my life," Alice added, cupping his face with her hands. "It's why I married you. I know you would _never_ do something like that without just cause." Her hand grasped his, guiding it down to her belly. "And I know you would _never_ hurt me or our child. No matter what certain people might say."

Victor nodded, clinging to her words like a life raft in the middle of a raging sea. "I just – I don't like myself when I get that angry," he whispered. "I'm still so frightened I'll – lose control."

"Well, I think you handled yourself admirably tonight," Christopher said softly. "It took some pretty nasty insults for you to even raise your voice."

"Indeed – I was about ready to punch Gordon in the face when he called our baby a 'grub," Alice agreed, eyes dark. "Though I guess that would have led to me being locked up with him in the county jail for fifteen days, so I'm glad I resisted the urge."

"I _think_ Strickland might have made an exception in your case," Marty said, raising an eyebrow at her belly. "But he's got the Tannens under control for now – and hopefully, for the next few days too. We'll figure out where the heck Gordon learned about your spiders later – I'm ready to split." He patted his leg. "Got my free gun, got my pie – I'm good."

Victor chuckled, some of his internal tension easing. "Oh, is that all you wanted out of the festival?"

"Well, that and seeing Jennifer," Marty said, pulling his fiancee close and giving her a kiss.

"Seeing you was the highlight of my night too," Jennifer replied, returning it. "Honestly, we were going to have to leave kind of early anyway – the rehearsal's in the morning, right after services. I don't know about you, but I don't want to fall asleep in the middle of it."

"That _would_ be rather embarrassing," Christopher agreed. "So which of your hyperbolically innumerable relatives would be open to escorting us back to the farm, Marty?"

"I'm sure Seamus would be happy to take us all home – we need our sleep too," Maggie said, walking purposefully toward her husband.

"Wait up – I gotta tell him what just happened," Marty said, following. "And then I can go drop you off with your dad, Jennifer."

"Thanks," Jennifer said, looping her arm through his. "He's probably really worried, what with that gunshot in the middle of the dance floor." She looked over her shoulder and threw the group a wave. "See you guys tomorrow! Don't be late!"

"Wouldn't dream of it!" Victoria assured her, waving back.

"We'll be there right on the dot," Emily promised. "Have a better rest of the night."

"Thanks, you too."

Everyone watched as she, Marty, and Maggie met up with Seamus and Artie and started giving them the rundown. "They _are_ a cute couple," Victoria said, smiling. "She's so sweet! It really is a shame we haven't been able to spend more time with her."

"Because then we would have known her longer and thus enjoyed her company more, or because then we likely wouldn't be dealing so much with Uncle Dumb and Nephew Dumber?" Christopher asked.

"Does it have to be one or the other?"

Richard scratched under his hat, frowning. "While we're back on the topic of those two, I had a thought. Buford said, right before they left, 'He makes a fuss, I can take the dumb dead-walker.' What do you suppose that means? He obviously wasn't talking about my dearest Emily here, and I haven't seen any other Reanimated in town."

"Huh – that is strange," Emily said, poking at the hole in her cheek. "Maybe he knows a fellow outlaw who was raised from the dead?"

"I have a hard time seeing Buford Tannen meeting a Reanimated and not immediately trying to put them back in the ground," Christopher said, frowning. "And it sounds almost like this Reanimated doesn't like _us_ either. He said he didn't have any quarrel with the 'fish man' – I assume that means Victor."

"Do you think it could be someone from Secundus?" Victoria said, looking up at him. "A Reanimated angry with their state and with a hatred for Touched as a result? It _would_ explain Gordon knowing about the spiders, if they died after the story came out."

"Maybe. . . ." Victor rubbed his arms. "But who could it be? And why – do they t-think I'm some monster who needs to be put down?"

"Possibly," Alice said, putting a steadying hand on his back. "But I don't think we'll know for sure without meeting the person. And that's not going to happen tonight." She rubbed her eyes. "Let's resume puzzling out this mystery in the morning with Marshall Strickland, when we're all a little calmer. And hopefully in a little less danger."

"Mmm," Christopher hummed in agreement, before glancing at the Marshall's office at the edge of the square. "I just hope really does have this situation under control."

* * *

"All right, gentlemen – let me show you into your new home for the night."

Gordon winced as the cell door _screeched_ open. "Look, Marshall, we're not going to cause any more trouble," he said, shifting from foot to foot. "Can't you just – I dunno, let us off with a stern word?"

Strickland snorted. "I know how well words work on Tannens, young sir. Besides, you shoved Mr. Lloyd right in front of me – I technically have cause to keep you a whole fifteen days." He turned a cold glare on Buford. "And you – oh, I'm _hoping_ I have you now. At least two witness said you tried to kill Dr. Brown at that party. Might not be enough for the short drop, but you won't be up to your old tricks anytime soon."

"We'll see about that, Marshall," Buford replied, matching Strickland's hard gaze dead on.

"We will indeed." Strickland gestured with his gun. "In you boys get. And don't even think about any funny business."

Reluctantly, Gordon trooped inside the cell, which was little more than an old dusty bench, a mattress flung on the floor, and a bucket in the corner. Buford followed with the air of a man who was so used to this situation, he couldn't be bothered to find anything about it upsetting anymore. Strickland _clanged_ the door shut behind them, then locked it with the biggest iron key Gordon had ever seen. "I'll be back with my deputy shortly," he informed them. "I recommend you boys make yourselves comfortable."

And with that, he was off, tucking the key securely in his pocket. Gordon groaned, flopping onto the bench. "Oh geez. . .I don't suppose you know of any secret ways out of here?"

"Nope," Buford said, leaning against the wall. "Never had to worry too much about it. Til tonight." He rolled his eyes. "Goin' after Can Dort with a bottle. . .you got any sense?"

"It looked like I had a clear shot at his head! Not all of us have hats big enough to hide guns in!" Gordon snapped. "Not that it did _you_ any good!"

"How the hell was I supposed to know that McFly could throw a pie plate like that?" Buford scowled at the floor. "Smart-mouthed little. . .I'll get him back. Him and that girl stupid enough to marry 'im."

"Yeah, great – we were _supposed_ to be taking care of Brown and Can Dort, you know," Gordon grumbled, folding his arms and leaning on his knees. "How do you think Old Bluey's gonna take learning they're still breathing?"

"Don't give a shit," Buford said, direct as always. "I ain't gonna put a bullet in Brown for _him_. I can wait. I'll get my eighty dollars' worth out of him, one way or another." He smirked, rotten teeth peeping out from behind blackened lips. "And a piece of that calico, if I can get it."

"Is _that_ what happened?" Gordon demanded. "You saw that lady and decided you'd rather get with her than do your job?"

"No! Just saw her and decided, hell, _one_ dance wouldn't hurt." Buford's grin widened. "'Specially when I saw how Brown took it. Whoo-ee, he's sweet on her. Never thought I'd see the day. Make getting him back all the sweeter." His customary scowl returned. "'Sides, I still came closer than you did to offin' somebody."

"Not my fault Can Dort can never go off anywhere alone," Gordon muttered. His shoulder twinged, and he hissed and rubbed it. "And I didn't expect the old guy to be so _strong_. What the hell do they put in the water over in Secundus?"

"Damned if I know. Just wish they'd keep their freaks to themselves." Buford sucked on his lip. "Bloody metal men and wanderin' corpses and lunatics runnin' around. . .whole place should be set on fire."

"Oh, look, something we agree on." Gordon pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes. "So how exactly are we gonna explain to Barkis that we've failed again?"

"I ain't gonna," Buford replied. "Once I'm out, I'm takin' the boys and headin' off to Grass Valley for a while. Get out in the open again, where a man can be a man." He gave Gordon the side-eye. "Not that _you'd_ know anything about that."

"I grew up in a little place called 'civilization,'" Gordon replied, glaring back. "Not the ass-backward end of nowhere."

"Oh, I'm not sure I agree about that. I've visited Burtonsville, and it's fairly 'ass-backwards,' in my humble opinion."

Gordon and Buford both started, jerking their heads toward the bars. Barkis leaned against the door to the cell, smiling at them coldly while tossing a jagged, bloody rock in one hand. "I mean, it still has a _town crier_ ," he continued, voice as smooth as a newly-hatched snake. "In this grand age of newspapers? That's just embarrassing."

"What the – how the fuck–" Gordon started, gaping.

"Language, Mr. Tannen," Barkis said mildly, holding up a hand. "Our good friend Stubble informed me of your predicament – he and his friends apparently rushed out of the party the instant Strickland appeared. Fortunate for you that he was too distracted by your antics to take much note of them, and that I wasn't that far outside of town." He produced the key from his pocket, swinging it around his finger before inserting it into the lock. "As for how I got in – well, do you think I just tromped up to all those ladies whose hands I accepted in marriage with a knife? _Some_ of us know the meaning of the word 'stealth.'" A _click_ , and the door _screeched_ open again. "Poor Marshall Strickland – he's going to wake up with a terrible headache and a nasty lump."

"Shoulda just gone ahead and finished him off," Buford said, pushing himself off the wall and heading for freedom. "But I'll hand it to ya for gettin' one over on him. Ain't easy even when he's–"

 _CRACK!_ Just like that, Buford was on the ground, holding his head as blood oozed from a shallow wound. "But I think finding the corpses of the two most incompetent jackasses I've ever had to work with in his jail will make him feel better," Barkis continued, tossing the rock over his shoulder. From the depths of his jacket slid a long, serrated blade. "Brown and Van Dort, still alive after all your promises to me about this festival. Tsk tsk. Fool me once, shame on me." He raised the knife. "Fool me twice. . . ."

"No!" Gordon shrieked, holding up his hands. "Lord Bittern, we – we tried! Honest! I told everyone what you told me about the spiders! You should have seen the looks on everyone's faces! Probably someone's gonna try and string up Can Dort before the day's out!"

"The day is practically out right now, Gordon," Barkis said, in the tone of someone explaining something for the millionth time to a five-year-old. "Unless someone organizes their lynching party within the next five minutes or so. . .managed a bit of humiliation, though? Fine, you've earned making it quick."

"I ain't goin' down to the likes of _you_!" Buford snarled, struggling to get to his feet.

Barkis knocked him over with a solid boot to the chest. "It took a giant monster with a scythe as big as he was to drop me," he replied, pressing his foot against Buford's throat. "And, as you can see, it didn't even stick. The only thing I fear about you is the extent of your idiocy."

"We can make this _right_ , Lord Bittern!" Gordon begged, aware he was starting to blubber but unable to bring himself to care. The last thing he wanted in the world was to get stabbed to death by some nutty Reanimated in a town hardly big enough to have a main road. "We've got another shot!"

"Oh?" Barkis mockingly laid a finger on his lips. "Do tell."

"McFly! You know, that Brown guy's best friend? He's getting married soon! Monday, right?"

"Yeah," Buford choked out, voice strangled with pain. "Yellabelly. . .turned down a. . .proper fight. . .'cause of it."

"See? Can Dort and Brown are sure to be there!" Gordon cried, waving his hands wildly. "We'll disguise ourselves as guests, sneak in, and _bang_!" He slapped his hands together, leaving them stinging. "We can _really_ mess things up then!"

Barkis gave him the most unimpressed look in existence. "Yes, I believe you could," he said blandly. "Really? Do you _really_ think they'd just let you two waltz in after your little performance tonight? _I'd_ have a better chance of sneaking in than you two, and I'm _blue_."

"Don't. . .gotta sneak. . .in," Buford gasped, flailing at Barkis's foot. "Just gotta. . .get the. . .girls!"

Barkis frowned at him. "Girls?" he repeated, easing the pressure on Buford's throat.

"Oooh. . .Brown's. . .got himself a lady," Buford explained, sucking in air. "Got awful mad. . .when I took her. . .for a dance. Bet he'd feel. . .even worse. . .if something _happened_ to her."

"Yeah!" Gordon said, nodding along. "And Can Dort? His gal's got a _baby_ on the way. Can you imagine his face if we took _that_ away from him?" (Gordon promptly did, and tried to pretend he hadn't.) "Why bother killing 'em when we can hit 'em where it _really_ hurts?"

Barkis twirled the tip of his knife against his finger, contemplating. "Hmmmm. . .I don't know anything about Brown and romance, but I _do_ know how besotted Van Dort is with that wife of his," he admitted. "So it isn't actually a bad idea. We could do the lot, in fact – I do still owe dear Victoria and Emily for their crimes against me. And we may as well take care of the blushing bride while we're at it." He smiled. "Just like old times." He sighed. "But given the amount of people involved, I _will_ need assistance in this endeavor." He tucked the knife away and stepped away from Buford. "Fine. One last chance to prove yourselves. And, I promise you, you will _not_ waste this one."

"Of course not, Lord Bittern!" Gordon said, sitting up as straight and tall as he could. Buford grumbled something unintelligible and probably profane from the floor. "You can count on us!"

"Only when I'm watching you," Barkis replied, glaring at him. "Which, _this_ time? Will not be an issue." He jerked his head at Buford. "Help him up and let's get out of here before someone else arrives. Tomorrow, you scout out the church and tell me what it looks like, where people go in and out, everything that happens there." He whirled around, leading the way into the night. "And pick me up something that'll work as a decent cloak."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \-->Yes, Bill Hill being the founder of Hill Valley is cribbed from _The Animated Series_ and other expanded universe material -- I'll take lore from that when I think it makes sense. Or it's funny. Or both!
> 
> \-->Jennifer's supposed to be wearing a Old-Western-dress-style version of her most notable outfit from the movies (the pink jeans with flowers, white blouse, and blue vest) -- felt appropriate.
> 
> \-->The other carnival games available at the festival are from the novelization (and the Wiki's quoting of same).


	9. Well That Didn't Last Long

September 6th, 1882

Hill Valley, California

6:58 A.M.

"Uuuuugnh. . . ."

"Yes, that does about sum it up."

Victor grunted, then rubbed one bleary eye, trying to get it to focus as the wagon trundled down the main dirt path. "We left the festival _early_ ," he complained, shaking his head to knock out the cobwebs. "How is it that we _still_ went to bed too late?"

"We forgot to factor in the long, bumpy ride into town," Alice replied, not bothering to lift her head from Victor's shoulder.

"You never complained before," William said from the driver's seat – and looking more amused than he had any right to be, in Victor's opinion.

"You never made us get up this early before," Richard groused. Emily nodded vaguely from beside him, pushing in her loose eye. "If it weren't for Lorraine brewing me a good cup of tea, I'd be asleep right here and now."

"I'm mostly impressed _Marty_ is conscious," Christopher remarked, looking at the bridegroom-to-be beside him. "I didn't think you knew times earlier than seven o'clock in the morning _existed_."

"Hey, I _did_ grow up on a farm," Marty reminded him, wiping the sleep from his eyes. "I mean, yeah, only too happy to go for a later start in Secundus, but I can manage early if I have to." He sighed. "Just wish I hadn't spent most of the night wound up because of Tannens trying to stab or shoot my two best friends."

"Yes, it – it wasn't a pleasant night," Victor agreed, recalling the hours he'd spent staring at the ceiling, trying to get the judgmental stares of the Hill Valleyians out of his head.

"Well, they're in the clink now, unable to give anybody any trouble," Artie assured them, though his eyes belied his own hidden worries.

"Yeah – Strickland won't be letting them out anytime soon, given what happened last night," Sylvia agreed. "Try not to give 'em any more thought, okay?"

"Easier said than done," Victoria said, hands knotting and unknotting themselves in her lap. "We still need to figure out just who it is they know from Secundus. And why that someone hates us so much."

"If they have any sense, they'll be staying out of town – I know _I_ would, if Strickland had marched my accomplices to jail at the business end of a shotgun," George said. "We'll talk to the Marshall about it after services and the rehearsal."

"Yeah. . . ." Marty yawned loudly. "And then we get to go through all this again tomorrow! Dang special license for afternoon weddings being so freaking expensive. . . ."

"We tried, kid." George reached over to ruffle his son's hair. "You'll get through it. We all will. And hopefully without any nasty surprises either."

"We hope," Alice echoed, finally sitting up straight. She took a fuzzy look around the street. "You're sure services are even on today? Looks to me like we're the only ones awake."

"I think most people are already _at_ the church, or preparing to go now," Lorraine told her. "I know it was a long night with the festival, but no one wants to miss services."

"Really, the ones you should feel sorry for are the Parkers," Caroline added, glancing over her shoulder from her seat beside William. "I know it feels like it takes forever to get from the McFly farm to town, but their ranch is actually _twice_ as far out."

"Oh, poor Jennifer," was Emily's opinion on that.

"Ah, she's used to it, unlike you city slickers," William teased. "Let me guess – you don't go to the church in Secundus, it comes to _you_."

A rippled of tired laughter went through the assembled Secundusians. "No, no, it stays where it was built," Christopher told him. "Though that isn't a bad idea, is it? A church that could go where its parishioners are? Hmm. . .I might have to talk to Father Gale about that. Could be some sort of – pop-up arrangement?"

"Write it down, dear," Victoria said, hiding a yawn. "Oh dear. . .I hope Reverend Warwick won't be too upset if we drift off for a moment."

"If he catches me dozing, I'll just blame it on my condition," Alice said, letting her head flop against Victor again. "Let him just _try_ to say something then."

"Lucky," Emily grumped.

"Just pretend to be awake during the rehearsal, okay?" Marty said with a smirk. "Speaking of which, we'd better pick up Doc before heading over. He'd probably appreciate the ride."

"Good idea," William agreed, aiming the wagon for the blacksmith shop as they entered the square. "Hopefully he's had a better night than the rest of us."

"After spending most of it with Clara? Oh, I'm sure he's feeling wonderful," Emily said, sighing happily.

"I don't know – the trip to the schoolhouse and back might mean he's actually the sleepiest of all of us instead," Christopher pointed out with a smile.

"Great, I'll get to tease _him_ about it for a change." Marty yawned again, then pulled himself over the side as they reached the double doors. "Back in a minute."

"We'll be here," Victor promised, waving a limp hand.

Marty nodded before pulling open the left door, leaning against the other and glancing inside. "Hey, Doc? Doc!"

Victor had expected an immediate reply – a groggy shout of "Marty!" perhaps, or the clatter of something being knocked off the workbench. But instead, nothing greeted them but silence. A prickle of anxiety worked its way up his spine. "Doc?" he called, leaning over the edge of the wagon (Alice grumbled as her "pillow" moved out of reach).

Still nothing. "Rise and shine!" Richard yelled, cupping his mouth with a hand.

Utter silence. Marty shot them all a puzzled look, then slipped in through the crack. "Doc, come on. . .Doc? Doc?!"

He burst back out again, eyes wide. "He's not here!"

" _What_?!" Victor snapped up straight, suddenly a lot more awake. "You're sure?"

"Positive! Place hasn't been touched since last night!" Marty snapped out his fingers one-two-three with a shake of his hand. "No breakfast, the horses are still in the stables, and the bed has _not_ been slept in!"

"You mean he – he never made – oh no," Victoria whispered, clamping her hands over her mouth.

"It couldn't have been Buford – he's in jail!" Emily cried, clutching her hair. "R-right?"

"We don't necessarily have to blame his absence on a Tannen – we know for a fact rattlesnakes roam that desert," Christopher said with a serious frown. "Which could arguably be _worse_ than a bullet. . .all right. First off we have to visit Marshall Strickland, let him know–"

"That Doc's right over there," Richard cut in, pointing back down the road.

Everyone turned as one to look. Sure enough, strolling past the cabinet-and-coffin-maker's at an insultingly leisurely pace was one Dr. Emmett L. Brown, jacket slung over his shoulder and a goofy smile on his face. Victor practically melted into the floor in relief. "Oh, thank God. . . ."

"Doc!" Marty took off down the road to meet him. "What the hell?"

"Hmmm? Oh, Marty!" Doc picked up the pace, meeting him halfway. "Good to see you! Lovely morning, isn't it?" He took a deep breath and sighed. "I never appreciated until today just how clean and crisp the morning air is here."

Victor exchanged a little look with Alice. "And people call _us_ sappy," he mumbled, before hitting Doc with his best glare. "Yes, it's lovely. You know you nearly gave us all a heart attack."

"Yeah, where the heck have you _been_?" Marty asked, poking Doc's side. He squinted at Doc's hand. "And what's that?"

"Oh, um, just a – a souvenir," Doc said, hiding it behind his back. "From the festival."

"Souvenir?" Alice repeated, leaning forward slightly. "We didn't stay long enough to buy anything."

"I didn't buy it. It was – given to me."

"I don't recall _you_ participating in any contests of skill at Mr. Johnson's," Richard said, wrinkling his nose. "Did you get one over on Starkey? Please tell me you did."

"No, I. . . ." Doc shook his head, then approached the wagon and held out his hand. Shining silver against his calloused palm was a little pin, clipped around a small bunch of purple flowers. Victor squinted. They looked vaguely familiar for some reason. . . .

"Ooooooh," Emily said suddenly, a bright smile spreading across her face. "Clara was wearing that last night, wasn't she? Oh, Doc – isn't it usually the man who gives the lady a token of his affection?"

"Yes, well, Clara was very insistent I take it," Doc replied, that goofy smile popping back up. "Not that I put up much of a fight. . . ." He sighed again – Victor fancied he could practically _see_ the little hearts drifting up around him. "She's amazing, she truly is. One in a million – a billion – a googolplex!"

"You're absolutely determined to outdo the rest of us in sheer unadulterated romantic goofiness, aren't you?" Alice said, shaking her head with a fond roll of her eyes. "It's practically enough to make one believe in fate and soulmates. . .so, that was her recompense for the unbroken telescope last night?"

"Ah – not exactly." Doc glanced away, ears going red. "She, um – she gave this to me this morning."

There was a long and telling silence. "Holy _shit_ , Doc," Marty finally said, expression a perfect marriage between amusement and shock. "You seriously–"

"I slept on the couch!" Doc said, as red as Victor might have been after an unprotected day in the sun. "Great Scott, Marty, do you really think I'd do – _that_ just days after meeting her?"

"You were willing to spend the night at her house just days after meeting her!" Richard pointed out, leaning on his knee. "That's enough to get people talking, isn't it?"

"Yes, and that was _another_ consideration toward – not accelerating our relationship any further at present," Doc said, rubbing his neck. "Look, what happened is, we got back to her cottage, and she asked if I wanted to do some stargazing with her. I wasn't averse to the idea, so she set up the telescope – which worked perfectly," he added, shooting a look at the very smug Richard. "And we got to talking about the moon, and astronomy in general, and Jules Verne, and some of our favorite scientific breakthroughs–"

"If that sentence doesn't end with 'and then we kissed,' I am going to drag you back to that cottage and tie you both together until you do," Emily declared, folding her arms.

"As far as you know, he _wants_ you to do that," Alice told her with a smirk.

"Not necessary," Doc said, pulling his hat over his face. "Yes, we did indeed kiss. Rather a lot, in fact." He pulled at his collar, flushed all the way down his neck. "It was – nice."

Victor snorted. "'Nice?' Oh dear, you're turning into _me_ , Doc. Next you'll tell us that this only happened after Clara stabbed some random monster trying to sneak up on you."

"Heh, not exactly," Doc replied, allowing himself a smile. "She instead noticed we'd stayed up until midnight and thus I probably shouldn't try to traverse the desert. So we made up the couch, and I caught a few hours before daybreak. Once I could see trouble well enough to get out of its way, we said our goodbyes, and – here I am."

"Well, good for you, Doc," Marty declared, clapping his friend on the back. "I'm glad you finally found somebody who likes you for you."

"Indeed – welcome to the club," Christopher nodded, pulling Victoria a little closer. Richard did the same with Emily.

"It _is_ nice to no longer be the token third wheel – or ninth wheel, under the circumstances," Doc chuckled. He affixed the pin to his vest and gave it one last smell. "I do have to ask, though – what brings you to my shop at this time of the morning?"

Marty raised an eyebrow. "Uh – small thing called the wedding rehearsal?"

"What – _Great Scott!_ " Doc shoved his hat back, suddenly as white as the fresh-fallen snow. "Damn it – Marty, I'm so sorry, I completely forgot!"

"It's okay, Doc," Marty said, surrendering to a fit of giggles. "You didn't actually _miss_ it, you know. We gotta get through the sermon first anyway."

"Provided you don't burst into flames upon walking through the church doors," Alice teased.

"If God sees fit to strike me down for merely sharing a house with a woman I fancy overnight, He's not a God I care to believe in," Doc responded. "That being said, though. . .could we keep my not- _quite_ -a-dalliance between us? As Richard pointed out, people do talk, and. . .well, we're all aware that my mere _association_ with her might put her in a precarious position with her job. Clara told me last night that she plans to stay in Hill Valley whether or not they keep her on – they can't stop her _living_ here – but I'd hate to think I was the reason she got dismissed."

"If it makes you feel any better, I'm pretty sure they wouldn't fire her right after hiring her," Caroline put in, leaning over the back of the driver's seat. "Not after the trouble we've had finding a new schoolteacher. Even if people disapprove of you two getting friendly, they're likely to just try and warn her off."

"And if she _does_ get fired, she and her telescope can move into your blacksmith shop guilt-free!" Richard added, ignoring Emily's half-hearted elbow.

"Uh, it might be guilt-free from _her_ end, but I think the rest of the town would be in an uproar," Sylvia said, grimacing. "Me and Artie had a bad enough time when I first moved in with him when we got together, and I had the excuse of 'I was living with a recently-arrested jerk and didn't have nowhere else to go!' You're lucky that Seamus and Maggie were so exhausted this morning they decided they could sneak in one lie-in, especially since they'd be in church tomorrow. Maggie wouldn't say you being in love was bad, but – she's into propriety."

"Yes, I think the only way such a living arrangement would be even somewhat accepted would be if I proposed," Doc admitted, scratching the back of his head. "And I adore her, but. . .it does still seem a _little_ soon."

"Well, you've got some time to figure it out, Doc," Marty assured him. "In the meantime, we'd better get over to the church before Warwick–"

"Excuse me, Mr. McFly? I just need your measurements."

Victor started as, seemingly out of nowhere, a pale man in a black suit, matching top hat, and an unnerving smile appeared by Marty's side. Marty did a double take as the man stretched a tape measure across his shoulders. "Uh – what – why?" he asked, voice going a bit squeaky.

"I'm quite certain he already has a suit for his wedding," Victoria added, eyeing the man with no small amount of trepidation.

The man chuckled softly. "Oh no – this is for his coffin."

"His _what_?!" Emily gasped, sitting up a little straighter.

"Everyone – Mr. Phipps, the local undertaker," Marty said, skittering away from the tape measure. "I'm with her – why are you assuming I'm gonna need a coffin anytime soon?"

"Well, the bets have started coming in, and odds are running two-to-one against you surviving your wedding day," Mr. Phipps replied, diligently following Marty to check his leg. "Best be prepared, right?"

"Oh, cheerful, aren't you?" Alice observed, leaning on her elbow. "People really think Buford Tannen's going to break out of prison that soon?"

Mr. Phipps blinked and looked up at her. "Oh – you haven't heard yet, then. Both Tannens have _already_ broken out. Someone nearly bashed poor Marshall Strickland's skull open and released them last night."

It was shaping up to be another absurdly warm early September day – and yet, Victor suddenly felt like he'd been plunged into the middle of winter. "W-what?"

"Oh _shit_ ," Marty hissed, eyes wide. "Is Marshall Strickland okay?"

"Nasty lump, but he's up and moving," Mr. Phipps assured him, estimating with his hand where Marty's head fell against his own neck. "Which might be more than can be said for you tomorrow." He gave Marty the creepiest grin Victor had seen in quite a long time. "Don't worry – I've got some fine oak that'll keep you in good condition. And plenty of blanks for your family to choose from."

"Gee, thanks. . . ." Marty wrung his hands together as Mr. Phipps pattered away, apparently satisfied. "Damn it damn it _damn_ it – this is bad."

"I was luckier than I thought, getting home this morning," Doc agreed, clutching his pin tightly. "Great Scott, if I'd run into Buford right after leaving Clara's–"

"It doesn't bear thinking about," Victoria said, voice shaking. "It's bad enough to know that they're both loose, thanks to whatever Secundusian friend they've picked up."

"We don't necessarily know that – Buford already came with a second, third, and fourth of his own," Richard pointed out, anxiously tapping his fingers against his knee. "Could have just been one of them, right?"

"Maybe, but – look, we've seen these guys in action," Marty replied, waving to Doc and his equally-anxious-looking parents. "They're not exactly the sharpest pencils in the box, you know? Plus I'm pretty sure they only hang out with Buford while he's 'top dog' – they didn't show up to help when Strickland was marching him and Gordon off to jail, did they?"

"They usually just wait it out if Buford ends up in jail for a spell," Doc confirmed. "Mostly to avoid getting caught themselves. No, whoever broke them out was someone else. . .why do you think they're from Secundus, though?"

"Because Buford mentioned a 'dead-walker' last night, and we realized after you'd already left with Clara that Gordon shouldn't have known how Victor killed the Queen," Alice filled him in. "The spiders never came up that first time around, and that's the only time the topic was discussed. So it seems logical to assume that some angry Reanimated from our city has found their way over here and is inspiring the Tannens to attack us."

"Oh, _great_." Doc pinched the bridge of his nose. "And here I was enjoying my morning. . . ."

"Yeah, same," Marty agreed, running his fingers through his hair and making it stick up in all directions. "I was hoping that, after that shitty run-in last night, we wouldn't have to worry about them for a while!"

"You should watch your language, Marty," Lorraine scolded, though without any real feeling. "We _are_ on our way to church."

"And I think we'd better get over there sooner rather than later," William said, looking in the direction of the little chapel. "Your fiancee needs to hear this news, if she hasn't already."

"Yeah, Mr. Parker too." Marty covered his face with his hands. "Well, Doc, maybe you _don't_ have to be ready for the rehearsal. We might not be having one after this."

"Let's see what Jennifer says first," Doc told him, patting his back. He climbed into the wagon, helping Marty in. "Onward, William. Hopefully, the house of God will be a safe one today."

The ride to the church was a quick one – if he hadn't been so wound up, Victor might have joked about it being like those times when Nell and William had insisted on taking their carriage on an errand across the Burtonsville town square. Jennifer was already waiting outside, along with her father. "Did you hear?" she asked the instant they pulled up, worrying the ties on her bonnet.

"Just now," Marty said, climbing down to embrace her. "From Phipps coming to measure me for a six-foot hole in the ground. Apparently nobody believes I'm actually gonna make it through tomorrow."

"Not true – Phipps said that there were two to one odds," Richard corrected. "Which means at least a few people are willing to bet on you surviving. And have a vested interest in you doing so!"

"Yeah, forgive me if that's not _exactly_ comforting." Marty held Jennifer at arm's length, looking between her and Mr. Parker. "I don't what's gonna happen. If Gordon's gonna throw something through the window when Warwick's doing his sermon, or if he's decided he's had enough and is just gonna leave. If Buford's gonna come stormin' in looking for blood right in the middle of our vows, or he's just gonna head out into the desert and lie low for a while. And who knows about whoever broke 'em out. . . ." He bit his lip. "I want to marry you, Jennifer. I've been looking forward to tomorrow for a long time. But – I don't want to put you in danger either. Or get you widowed at your own wedding."

"Heaven forbid," Jennifer whispered, gathering Marty's hands in hers and pulling them close to her chest. "I want to marry you too, Marty. I've been dreaming about being the next Mrs. McFly. But – I don't know. I don't _want_ to put it off, but – if you think it might be better for you and Doc to skip town for a while. . . ." She looked over at her father. "We've got the license – how long do we have before we can't get married?"

"I – think it's about a month?" Mr. Parker said, looking to George for confirmation. "I didn't really check."

"Me either – we got it with the expectation you'd be married on Monday," George admitted, running his fingers through his hair. "But a month sounds about right. . .we can check with Reverend Warwick, he's likely to know–"

"That won't be necessary, Mr. McFly."

Marshall Strickland appeared at the doors of the church, his stern expression undercut somewhat by the wad of white cloth he was holding against the back of his head. "It is a month, just for the record," he continued, turning his attention to the engaged couple. "But I think you two should go ahead with your original plans."

"Really?" Marty said, surprised.

"Why?" Alice asked, one eyebrow raised.

"Surely it would be safer for them to delay the marriage?" Victoria agreed, frowning.

"Not necessarily – delaying just gives Tannen more of a chance to hunt Master McFly here down and keep him from ever getting married at all," Strickland replied. He let out a little hiss of pain and leaned against the door. "Ow. . .and, frankly, I just don't like to see people bow to fear of that man. It just gives him that much more power over the rest of us. If Master McFly and Miss Parker here postpone their wedding because of him – even if we catch him right away, in a little way, he's won. It's not right."

"No, it isn't – but it's still dangerous to go on with it too," Alice pointed out. "We saw what both Buford _and_ Gordon were willing to pull at a busy town festival. Do you really think they'll be more circumspect at a wedding?"

"No," Strickland said shortly. "Which means – and I'll hope you'll excuse me saying this – it's perfect bait."

" _Bait_?" Lorraine and Mr. Parker echoed in dangerous tones.

"You want to use Marty and Jennifer's wedding to – to flush them out?" Victor sputtered, shocked.

"Honestly – yes. I can't see those two passing up the opportunity to cause trouble at the ceremony. Be the best way to get them back into custody!" Strickland adjusted the position of his cloth. "So I tell you what we do – I gather up _every_ lawman I have, and post them around the church and nearby environs." He pointed at William. "You, Mr. McFly, get whatever laborers want to help us and bring them to me. I'll make them deputies for the day and spread them out with my own men. Between the two of us, we should be able to scare up enough guards to spot _immediately_ when trouble is brewing, and take it down." He winced again, and glared at the sky. "I'm not letting that slobbering excuse for a man, or his kin, get the best of me again. The _moment_ they set foot in town, they'll be arrested, jailed, and – well, I can't guarantee anything after that. But I'm not expecting good things for _either_ of our two Tannens."

"Yes, well, you weren't expecting them last night either," Alice said, folding her arms and piercing Strickland with a sharp glare. "And then someone clonked you over the head and broke them out. Your anger against the Tannens, while understandable, does also seem somewhat misplaced in this case."

"Did you get a look at who did it, at least?" Emily asked, knotting her fingers in her lap.

"No," Strickland said, starting to shake his head, then thinking better of it with a hiss of pain. "Whoever it was, they know a thing or two about sneaking up on people. Suppose I should just be grateful they stopped at knocking me out. Buford would have shot me without a second thought."

"We're all glad you're still alive," Christopher told him, leaning on his knees. "But – you acknowledge this is a risky plan? Even if the Tannens are caught, who's to say this compatriot of theirs that's so good at sneaking won't make it through? We think that they're working with a Reanimated from Secundus that has a grudge against us for some reason – which means that, whoever they are, they're almost certainly likely to try something at the wedding."

"I know none of this is _ideal_ , but – well, do you have a better plan?" Strickland asked, moving his cloth around again. "The more we wait around, the more likely they are to try something anyway. Not to mention, my way makes sure you all leave on time. Mayor Gillin was the first at my bed this morning, going on about how none of this would have happened if 'those dratted Madboys' hadn't shown up in his town."

"Dratted?" Alice repeated, quirking an eyebrow.

"That's as close as I'll come to what he _really_ said in a house of God, surrounded by women."

"I suppose there's a case to be made that, if our guests weren't here, Gordon wouldn't be giving everyone so much trouble," Doc allowed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "But Buford has it out for _me_ in particular, for an incident that happened before everyone arrived. And of course we can't say about their mystery friend. Maybe I would have been enough of a target for them, having lived in the city for a couple of years."

"Yes, but if you tried presenting that logic to the mayor, I think he'd tell you he doesn't give a damn," Richard said, scowling. "Looking at it from our end, though – I think I have to agree with Strickland. We shouldn't impose on the McFlys any longer than we have to."

"Of course not," Victor agreed. "And I can't really send word back to Flint that we're staying longer than expected. The way the mail moves out here, we might arrive home before the letter!" _Not to mention, I don't want to stay in this increasingly unfriendly little town any longer than I have to._

"Mmm. . .and if we go as expected, maybe whoever it is egging on the Tannens will follow us and at least leave Hill Valley alone," Christopher admitted, sighing. "That'll solve at least part of the problem. You're right in that I don't have any better ideas." He looked around. "Anyone else want a go?"

"I got nothin'." Marty looked over at his fiancee. "What do you think, Jen?"

"Well, it's not what I wanted out of my wedding. . .but I kinda agree with Marshall Strickland," Jennifer replied, taking his hand. "I do _not_ want to hand a win, even a small one, to Buford Tannen. Or Gordon, or whoever their friend is. And I don't want to give any of them the chance to kill you before I can marry you." She gave his fingers a squeeze. "I say we try it and go ahead with the wedding."

"All right then – guess we're on." Marty pointed at Strickland. "But I'm counting on you to make _sure_ nothing happens."

"The moment the sermon is over, I'll be back at the office, recruiting as many men who want to follow the law as possible," Strickland assured him. "And instilling them with a good sense of discipline. At the very least, they'll jump when I call."

"And I'll round up as many lads on the farm who are willing to help stand guard," William added. "I imagine most will do it for an extra day's wages. . .I'll stand out here myself if necessary. I know enough about shooting to keep trouble away from the door."

"Do you think us standing guard would make things better or worse?" Christopher asked Richard. "I mean, we're both no strangers to combat, but. . . ."

"I want you guys in there with me," Marty said, shaking his head. "Both because I want you to actually _see_ my wedding, and because – well, if something _does_ happen, then you'll be close." He groaned, leaning his forehead against Jennifer's. "I thought tomorrow was supposed to be the happiest day of our lives."

"Tell me about it," Jennifer said, shoulders slumped. "Now I feel like I've been sucked into the middle of the ocean by a giant wave."

"I've felt like that before," Victoria told them. "But my maid Hildegarde always told me that the sea leads to many places. You might land somewhere better."

"Hey, so long as nobody's _dead_ by the end of tomorrow, I'll consider that a better place," Jennifer said, pulling Marty into a hug.

"Excuse me! If everyone could please come inside to hear the word of God?"

"Coming, Reverend!" Caroline called, hopping down from the wagon. "All right, everyone, let's not keep Reverend Warwick waiting. We can discuss all of this more at the rehearsal."

"Right. Come on, guys," Marty said, jerking his head toward the pews just visible through the doors.

Alice squeezed Victor's arm as everyone started disembarking and heading into the church. "You look more anxious than Marty, and he was just measured for his own coffin," she said softly. "Do you need another reminder that this isn't your fault?"

"I think I do," Victor admitted, rubbing his forehead. "It's just – everything's gone downhill so _quickly_. At the beginning of the week, I was so excited to see Doc and Marty again, to get a look at their hometown, to know everyone and everything here. Now. . .now I'm half-wishing we'd stayed at home. And I hate feeling like that, but – well, if I hadn't been in the Palace to scare Gordon that day. . . ."

"He still would have sought out Buford – that's what he was doing before we even showed up," Alice reminded him. "And as has been established, Buford has his own vendetta against Doc that we're not a part of. The only person who might have been affected is their mysterious friend, and – well, we don't know the exact nature of _their_ grievances yet. Yes, they seem to have it out for you in particular – but from the way those two morons were talking last night, they don't seem fond of Doc either." She ran her thumb over his knuckles. "Frankly, if we hadn't come? That first incident at Doc's shop might have turned out _worse_."

"Maybe. . .but you know me," Victor said, looking down at her. "I can't just shut off the worry like a faucet. Especially since now everyone's talking like – like Marty won't–"

Alice pressed a steadying hand against the small of his back. "Nobody knows that for sure," she said, voice calm – though Victor could see the faintest flicker of fear in her eyes. "And we're taking every possible precaution. Strickland's plan is – not great, but it has a decent chance of success. And if the worst happens – well. I'd like to see the citizens here _try_ to stop us taking Marty back home and pounding on Dr. Finklestein's door."

"Yes, but – that's what s-scares me the most," Victor said, his free hand finding his tie and fussing with it. "Them trying and me – doing something. Something – unforgivable."

Alice tilted her head, steering them to a private pew near the back, behind their friends. "No one would blame you for being angry. Least of all me."

"But – but what if I got angry like I got angry at the Queen?" Victor whispered, leaning closer to her. "I – you're the most important person in my life. Everyone knows that. But Doc and Marty – they tie for second. They are my best friends, and – and j-just the thought of someone wanting to kill them. . .on Marty's _wedding day_ no less. . . ." His hand clamped around his tie in a tight fist. "I can _feel_ the darkness moving inside me, looking up, taking notes. And the _last_ thing I want to do is prove Gordon _right_ about me."

Alice was silent for a moment, her expression suggesting she was measuring her words. "The Queen was when you were new to being Touched," she said at last. "With the whole world falling apart around you. Now – you've got two years of experience with your madness. Your darkness. And there's a lot more people to help hold you back this time. Including me." She took his hand, pulling it free of his tie and massaging away the tension. "I love you, Victor. I won't let you fall to the dark."

Victor let out a long, heavy breath. "I know you wouldn't. But – what if they do something to you? I don't know about Gordon, or the mystery person, but Buford – Buford probably wouldn't care that you're–" His voice cracked, and he settled for nodding at her extended belly as he blinked back anxious tears.

Alice ran her free hand over the curve of her abdomen. "Well, they haven't gotten me yet," she said, keeping her tone light. "And I know you have a hard time believing it these days, what with my condition, but I _can_ still take care of myself." She squeezed his fingers. "I don't intend to go throwing myself into danger, Victor. Or stay in its way if it throws itself at me. But I will do whatever it takes to keep the three of us safe." She pulled him into a tight hug. "God help them if they take _you_ away from _me._ "

"I won't let them," Victor promised, wrapping his arms around her and rubbing her back. "You know, this week would probably be the perfect test for Doc's flux capacitor, once he gets it up and running. Go back to last Monday and convince me it's not worth losing my temper at Gordon."

"Better yet, convince Gordon to stay in Burtonsville." Alice sighed, then nuzzled his chest. "All right. We've just got to get through one more day. See Marty married, and _hopefully_ see the Tannens and their friend thrown in prison. Then we can head back to Secundus and resume our lives." She patted her belly. "Focus all our worry on this little creature growing inside of me."

Victor winced, images of over-sized larva dancing across his retina. "D-don't – don't call it a c-creature? P-please."

"Sorry." Alice looked up at him. "But we are close to the end of this whole mess. And there's a lot of people who do not want to see anyone die tomorrow. We can make it. Tomorrow will be happy, somehow, some way. And then we go home. Right?"

"Right." Victor sighed as he slumped back in his seat. "I don't know what I'd do without you."

"Let's not find out." Alice kissed his cheek as Warwick started in on his sermon – something about distinguishing real, Godly love from the sin of lust. "Remember what Strickland said. Letting them get to us is giving them a win."

"Yes, well, Strickland has a badge and knows how to fire a shotgun."

"True – but while there's not much you can do about the former, under the circumstances, I don't think Doc or one of Marty's more firearms-inclined relatives would mind giving you a few pointers about the latter," Alice told him.

"Good point. Maybe I'll ask after the sermon." Victor ran his fingers through his hair. "Anything to take my mind off the what-ifs."

"Trust me – I think _they'll_ want that too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \-->In case you were wondering, Mr. Phipp's name comes from the _Back To The Future Part III_ novelization, which is also where I got a few of the details of the games at the festival last chapter (courtesy of looking up quotes on Futurepedia!).


	10. Bittern Makes His Move

September 7th, 1882

Hill Valley, California

7:45 A.M.

"Oh, for. . .come on, I must – Great Scott, seriously? I can't believe – Victor? Could – could you please come help me with this?"

"Hmm?" Victor looked up from straightening his collar in the cloudy mirror to see Doc behind him, partially entangled in the elaborate mess of loops that his tie had become. "What the – how on _earth_ did you manage that?" he asked, poorly stifling a giggle.

"By completely forgetting which part of which loop _this_ end is supposed to go through," Doc replied, holding up the thin end. "Care to enlighten me?"

"Certainly – none," Victor told him, unable to help his smile. "You're only ever supposed to move the _wide_ end."

". . .oh." Doc sighed, letting the cloth flop loosely around his neck and shoulders. "You'd think I'd remember that. . .but I generally favor bow ties when I go formal. I haven't worn a tie in this style in – I want to say twenty-two years now."

"Really? Wow." Victor came over, carefully unpicking the knot that held the over-sized bow (if you could call it that) together. "But yes, every time I've seen you fancied up, it's either been a bow or string tie. Why the change today? I'm sure Marty doesn't care."

"Reverend Warwick does," Doc replied, shrugging. "He feels a straight tie is more – Godly, or something like that. I didn't consider it a big deal at the time." He glared at the length of cloth as it fell into Victor's hand. "Of course, at the time, I thought I'd remember how to tie one of the damn things, two decades or no."

"It's all right – it took _me_ the better part of a month to get every step down myself," Victor reassured him. "And even now I occasionally forget. . .but here, let me give you a refresher." He looped the tie back around Doc's neck. "Okay, so – the thin end is on the right, and the wide end starts on the left. Then you cross it over, pull it up and through like so, cross it over again, pull it _down_ and to the left, then _up_ and to the right. . .then back down and to the left again, cross over to the right, up and over – and through the knot!" He pulled it tight, then stepped back with a nod. "And there you are."

"There we are indeed," Doc chuckled, adjusting the fit. He checked his reflection in the mirror and nodded. "Perhaps you write the steps down for me? Or maybe I could just hire you to tie it for me whenever I need it."

"There was a time when I first started wearing suits regularly where 'help Master Victor with his tie' seemed to be one of poor Barry's primary duties," Victor laughed. "He'd probably be amused to see me on the other end of it for a change. But yes, I'll write them down for you later. Or draw them, that would likely be more helpful."

"Maybe!" Doc patted him on the back. "At the very least, we can say you're well-prepared if you happen to have a son of your own."

"Yes. . . ." Victor glanced at the door. "How – how do you think the ladies are getting on?"

"No one's come screaming for us so far, so I'm guessing they're fine," Doc said, smoothing down his hair. It promptly fluffed back up again, refusing to be tamed. "And as William's overseeing their quarters personally, I assume they shall stay that way."

"I hope so." Victor twisted up the end of his own tie. "I'm trying to think that 'no news is good news,' but. . . ."

"Trust me, I get it," Doc agreed, biting his lower lip. "I don't think I've seen a single wedding that has so many men with guns running around." He pulled out his pocket watch. "On the plus side, we only have thirteen minutes to go before the ceremony. Once Marty and Jennifer are actually in front of Warwick, I'll feel a little more at ease."

"Me too." Victor sighed heavily. "It's sad, isn't it? Having to treat this like we're containing some sort of prison riot instead of attending a wedding."

"Tell me about it," Doc said with a sigh of his own. "I was looking forward to this too. . .at least Marty and Jennifer have the excuse of a honeymoon to get out of Hill Valley and nearby environs for a while. Me, I'm just going to have to find a spot to lie low and hope it's populated enough that Buford doesn't dare try anything."

"He seemed pretty determined to have your head – you're going to have to go to one of the big cities, I think." Victor rubbed the back of his neck. "You – you could come back with us to Secundus? For j-just a little while? Alice and I have the space."

"I'd hate to impose while you're in the middle of such a massive life change," Doc replied. "Though I won't say it _isn't_ a temptation. I miss the place quite a lot. Really the only city in the world where I felt like I _truly_ belonged." He tugged at his tie, then straightened it back out. "Really, if it wasn't for your upcoming baby and the fact that I don't want to end up too far away from Clara. . . ."

"Oh – yes, I should have thought of that." Victor leaned closer to his friend with a little smile. "She looked very nice today, didn't she?"

Right on cue, Doc went pink. "She did," he said, making another entirely unnecessary adjustment to his tie. "Purple suits her. She just – pops against the rest of the town."

"She does." Victor gave Doc a little nudge. "Too bad there's probably no time to spend another night at her cabin."

"I told you before, I slept on the couch!" Doc poked him in the shoulder. "This is the sort of thing I expect from _Marty_ , not you. Though. . .I guess there _was_ that one 'lunch break' you spent with Alice. . . ."

Victor felt his own cheeks heat up. "Y-yes, well, that just – sort of – happened," he said, awkwardly playing with his tie. "It didn't get as far as you might have thought. . .anyway, I owe you for laughing at all those 'staring contest' comments." He smiled, face softening. "Seriously, though – it's nice to see you so happy with someone. I never expected you to become so smitten so fast."

" _You_ weren't expecting it?" Doc replied, through a smile of his own. "Imagine how _I_ feel! After Lucy and Jill both threw me over, I considered myself permanently banned from the romantic side of life. Hell, befriending Marty when I first came here was more than I hoped for with social interaction. Never mind all the rest of you after going to Secundus! And then you all started pairing up, and – I was happy enough to see you all finding love and whatnot, but I can't deny I felt a bit left out." He sighed. "And then, after meeting Clara. . .well, you saw my attempts to convince myself the relationship could go nowhere. That the electricity I felt between us was mere adrenaline from the way we met. That, even after having saved her life, she wouldn't _actually_ want anything to do with me."

"That – sounds depressingly familiar," Victor said, biting his lower lip. "I was like that with Alice – that, no matter how much I liked her, and how much she seemed to like me, she'd never see me the way I saw her. That it would be a fool's errand to speak up – that I'd wreck our friendship and that would be that."

"Mmm – seems we're more alike than we thought," Doc said, clapping him on the shoulder. "I'm just glad Clara showed up with her telescope when she did. I might have tried to avoid her otherwise. But actually seeing her in the shop, admiring all my Inventions, eagerly wanting to hear more about my life, my work, _me_. . .and then, having Richard point out that the telescope wasn't even broken, she'd just wanted an excuse to see me again. . . ." He ran his fingers through his hair again, making it fluff up all the more. "Honestly? I would say I was nine-tenths of the way to love by the time we met up at the festival. And what happened afterward. . . ." He gazed upward, face bright. "Just sealed the deal. I've never been able to talk to a woman like that before. That genuine interest – it made me feel like I could open up to her about _anything_."

"I know just how that feels too," Victor said, a warm, fuzzy feeling tickling his rib cage. "It's the same with me and Alice. Once I finally blurted out my feelings, our first date was just so – comfortable. You know how tongue-tied I can get when I'm nervous, but with her – it all just came out with barely a stammer. Even when I told her about those dreams I was having at the time, confusing me with their glowing butterflies." He squeezed his hands together, imagining her fingers intertwined with his. "I think – I think something inside me knew that – she _could_ calm me down. Keep me together, when my mind inevitably broke. Like a – a soulmate, trite as that sounds."

"Not as much as you might think," Doc told him. "Once upon a time, I would have called the concept romantic nonsense. But after watching Marty and Jennifer get together, hearing them both describe seeing the other as like being hit by lightning. . .seeing Christopher and Richard, my fellow avowed bachelors, find Victoria and Emily respectively and start acting like schoolboys. . .and then watching you charm Alice, whom I was _certain_ was going to end her days alone except for a few cats. . .well, one has to wonder. And Clara. . . ." Doc gripped the front of his jacket. "She really is exactly the kind of woman I've been looking for all my life. Sweet, kind, well-educated, a fan of my own favorite author, not intimidated by my Touched status, has the same boundless enthusiasm for science and adventure as myself, and won't let anyone dictate her actions." He sighed dreamily, then shook his head. "A pity I had to meet her in my mid-sixties, but. . . ."

"Oh come on, Doc – we all know that the mid-sixties are like the mid-thirties for you."

Marty appeared in the doorway, grinning in a way that reminded Victor of Cheshire back home. "Still time to ask Warwick if he's willing to do another wedding after mine, you know," he continued.

Doc snorted. "Despite the obvious chemistry, it's still probably for the best that Clara and I know each other longer than _four days_ before I propose. If only because we'd need the time to file for the license."

"Okay, I'll give you that – getting that sorted _was_ kind of a pain in the ass," Marty allowed, holding up his hands. "But it _would_ be easier just to get hitched while everybody's already here."

"Mmmm. . .I don't think Mayor Gillin will tolerate another visit, especially since he's already blaming all of us for what's happened with the Tannens," Doc admitted regretfully. Then he smiled. "On the other hand. . .convincing Clara to visit _Secundus_ to get married would likely be a lot easier."

"I think I'd prefer that myself," Victor agreed. His eyes strayed to Marty's waist. "If only because the groom probably wouldn't feel the need to wear a gun to his own wedding then."

"Yeaaaah, well. . . ." Marty patted the gun belt, Colt Peacemaker safely holstered within. "Precautions, you know? _Really_ glad that Johnson liked me well enough to give me a free wedding present now."

"Here's hoping you don't find a need to _use_ it," Doc said, lips pressed into a thin frown. "You may be good at a shooting gallery, but Buford – well, you've heard the bragging."

"Twelve men – _not_ including Indians or Chinese," Marty nodded. "Trust me, Doc, I'm not planning on challenging him to a duel at high noon or anything. Just – having something to defend myself makes me feel a little safer. Jennifer okayed it."

"She okayed Alice bringing her Vorpal Blade too," Victor admitted. "Like you, I'm hoping she doesn't have to use it, but. . .it calms my nerves, ever so slightly, to know she's got it."

"Right. . .I very nearly brought the Terminator along, if I'm honest," Doc said, looking between his two best friends. "But then I thought about the spread on the damn thing, and how there wasn't any time to instruct William – who's the only one outside I'd trust to shoot it – on how to handle the recoil or how to reload. . .better to leave the damn thing at my shop."

"Yeah – Strickland's got his shotgun, and Uncle William brought his best hunting rifle," Marty told him. "I think they're good."

"Not to mention, there's the army of farmhands surrounding the building," Victor added. "I didn't think I'd ever meet a group of men more muscled than Alice's cousins, but. . .even the regular deputies looked intimidated."

"They should be – I once saw Terry – blond dude hanging around Uncle William – lay some drunk out with a single punch during a brawl at the Palace," Marty said. "They're nice guys, mostly, but you _don't_ mess with them. Which is what we want."

"Exactly," Doc nodded. "Likely Buford will probably try something regardless, but the sheer intimidation factor should help keep Gordon at bay. And hopefully their mysterious benefactor as well. They may have managed to sneak up on Strickland, but I'd like to see him get past a roving gang of five official deputies, twelve 'for the day' ones, and an angry William McFly and Marshall Strickland."

"I certainly hope so." Victor sighed, rubbing the heels of his hands into his eyes. "I am _so_ done with Tannens."

"We all are," Marty agreed, tone bitter. "At least _you_ get to go back to England and forget Gordon exists if you want. Jennifer and I are gonna spend half our time in San Francisco looking over our shoulders if we don't get these assholes in custody."

"Fingers crossed we're fortunate and they'll show up, only to be immediately apprehended by the long arm of the law," Doc said. "I know _I'll_ be relieved to see that brute Buford in a cell. Or, better yet, on the gallows." His hand clenched into a fist so tight Victor was genuinely surprised he didn't draw blood. "If you'd _seen_ the way he manhandled Clara–!"

"We caught enough of it," Marty said, glowering. "Damn, I am just glad I was fast enough with the Frisbie! I thought for a second. . . ."

"Let's not," Victor said, batting away dark thoughts trying to claw their way up his spine.

"Yes, let's not," Doc agreed, in the tone of a man who has looked death in the eye and would prefer to avoid a second staring contest. "We can only hope this really is the end of it."

"Strickland seems pretty determined to get Buford and his buddies for _something_ today, so. . . ." Marty held up crossed fingers. "We can only hope, yeah." He brushed back his hair. "Okay – not gonna worry about that for five minutes. How long until the main event, Doc?"

Doc consulted his watch, and chuckled. "Right on the nose, Marty – five minutes."

"What? Come on. . . ." Marty peered at the watch. "Oh, for – I was hoping it was sooner! I want to get up there and be man and wife and all that jazz! And see the famous dress too!" He bounced impatiently on his heels. "I mean, I wouldn't care if she showed up in a potato sack, honestly, but she's been going on about it for a while now!"

"I'll be time before you know it," Victor told him, smiling. "I'm sure Jennifer's just as eager to get on with things as you–"

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!"

Victor just about leapt right out of his skin. "What the – Emily?!" he gasped out, clutching his chest as he spun toward the door.

"Shit! That was definitely _not_ an excited scream," Doc said, already on the move. "Marty, you might want to get that gun ready!"

"Way ahead of you, Doc!" Marty replied, Colt already in hand as he pushed past him to sprint into the church proper. "Hang on, girls! We're coming!"

There was another shriek in response – though Victor thought this one sounded more masculine in nature. It was followed by a tremendous _THUMP!_ that seemed to rattle the glass in the windows. Victor raced after his friends to see Reverend Warwick at the pulpit, clutching his Bible and looking around in baffled terror for the source of the noise. "What happened?" he demanded as they shot past.

"That's what we're trying to find out!" Marty glanced left as his father and Uncle Artie joined the group on their dash to the ladies' makeshift dressing room. "Where's Uncle William?"

"Outside, I think – Artie, go get him!" George commanded, pointing behind them.

"Right!" Artie turned to go, only to come nose to nose (well, more nose to chest) with Christopher and Richard. "Oof! Sorry, sorry. . . ."

"My fault," Christopher said shortly, gently pushing Artie to the side. "So we have Tannens, then? I swear, a man lets down his guard for one minute–"

"Emily!" Richard barreled to the front of the group, wrenching open the door just before Marty could. "Darling, are you – oh! Yes, I guess you are."

That was encouraging, but only just. Victor weaved around the others, panic nibbling at his brain. _She's fine she's fine Emily must have screamed just at the sight of the intruder Richard would be more worried if anyone was hurt if_ she _was hurt she's fine she's fine she's_ fine _–_ Gritting his teeth against the snarling darkness, he ducked under Richard's arm –

To see Alice sitting on Gordon Tannen, one knee pressed against his chest and the Vorpal Blade against his throat. "Hello, love," she said, not looking up. "Seems the party crashers have arrived. How this one ever got past security, I'll never know."

"You – did you _see_ her?!" Linda demanded of her mother, eyes bulging behind her glasses. "I never thought – and she's _pregnant_!"

"I couldn't have pulled that off seven months into having any of you, that's for sure!" Lorraine agreed, gaping. "How on earth did you _move_ so fast?"

"Practice," Alice replied. "You fight the sort of monsters I do on a regular basis, you learn the value of speed. Honestly, good to know my forced temporary retirement hasn't rendered me too rusty."

"He came in through the window," Emily explained, folding herself into Richard's arms. Beside her, Victoria did the same with Christopher. "Just busted in and lunged straight for Alice. And then she caught him in the throat and managed to _flip him over_! Bang!"

"She does that," Victor laughed, giddy with relief and lingering worry. "You're feeling all right, Alice?"

"Better than if he'd got me," Alice assured him. "The baby's a little agitated, but that's only to be expected. Nothing serious." Her eyes narrowed as she pressed the knife into Gordon's flesh. "So – any particular _reason_ I shouldn't just slit your throat right now and be done with it?"

"I – I don't wanna die," Gordon blubbered, tears spilling down his face as he trembled under Alice's weight.

"Unfortunately, I don't give a damn about what you want right now. Try again."

"We need him alive to figure out just what the hell's going on," Marty told her, scanning the room. "And where the hell's Jennifer?"

"And Clara?" Doc added, head swiveling like an owl's. "Weren't you all in here together?"

"Jennifer had to – um – take care of some business," Linda explained, fiddling with her glasses. "You know – outside? Clara offered to help with the dress, and they went and got Uncle William to stand guard. . . ."

"Good thing too, as Gordon showed up shortly afterward," Victoria added, scowling at the trapped Tannen. "He just missed his chance to attack her."

"I wasn't supposed to go after her in the first place!" Gordon protested, sweating. "I volunteered to get the bit – the _lady_ on top of me," he hastily corrected as the knife moved a little closer to his artery. "I thought, 'how's a pregnant lady gonna be any trouble?' Why are you carrying a _knife_ at a _wedding_?!"

"Gee, I wonder if it has anything to do with me and my husband being jumped just the other day at the local festival by some asshole with a bottle," Alice said, rolling her eyes. "So you were after me _specifically_ , then? I take it Buford's going after our darling bride."

"No, he said he'd get Clayton," Gordon said, swallowing anxiously. "Bittern's gonna get the Parker girl."

Silence dropped on the room like a heavy funeral shroud. "Bittern?" Victor repeated softly, coldness swirling in his stomach.

"Yeah – 'Lord Barkis Bittern,' as he likes to remind us every five seconds," Gordon said, rolling his eyes. "But he's the scariest damn Reanimated I've ever met. Showed up shortly after I ran into Buford after you scared me out of the Palace, Can Dort. He _really_ has it out for you." He nodded, ever so slightly, in Doc's direction. "And Brown over there. How the hell did you guys manage to kill him?"

"Kill – he got _himself_ killed!" Doc roared, waving his arms like windmill blades. "I tried to _stop_ the idiot from running toward that damn Executioner!"

"And I was kind of busy Going Creative in a locked laboratory because _he_ decided to team up with the most horrible monster ever created in Secundus!" Victor snarled. "He was going to help the Queen murder my friends and take over the city! _He's_ the one at fault for his death!"

"Who the hell reanimated him?" Emily demanded, hands clamped over her mouth as she shook. "What on earth were they _thinking_?!"

"And what the hell is he doing over here in _California_?!" Christopher added.

"Hiding from the authorities, most likely," Doc replied, shaking his head. "If anyone in Secundus realized he was back. . .did he tell you about the Queen of Hearts?" he asked Gordon, eyes narrowed. "About how he was willing to throw an entire city of people into death and slavery just to avoid going to jail? How about his previous career as a Bluebeard-style serial killer?"

"Look, do you think I _wanted_ to throw my lot in with a lousy Reanimated?!" Gordon cried, waving an arm as best he could while pinned. "I just – he was talkin' about revenge against you guys, and I thought, m-maybe he'd be good for showing up Can Dort! Give – give that _freak_ what he deserved! But then nothing we tried to get you guys worked, and Buford and I both decided we wanted out, and – you don't know how _fast_ this guy is! When he came to get us out of jail, he put Buford down almost before I could blink! He would have killed both of us right then and there if I hadn't remembered this stupid wedding was happening! It was help grab the girls or get my throat slit!"

"And now look where you are," Alice commented. "Seems you might as well have stayed in that cell."

"Oh God. . .and he took out Strickland without the guy even seeing him. . . ." Marty whirled to face Emily. "He's really that good?"

"The night we eloped, I was standing in the middle of a forest in autumn – leaves and sticks _everywhere_ – under a full moon, waiting for him," Emily whispered. "He grabbed me from behind and stabbed me before I even knew he was there."

"Shit – _Jennifer_!" Marty bolted out the door, gun in hand. "Dad! Come on! We gotta save her!"

"Clara too!" Doc cried, right behind him. "They went to the outhouse together!"

"Be careful!" Victoria yelled after them, before turning on Gordon with a steely glare. "All right, so the plan was to kidnap Jennifer, Clara, and Alice, and – then what? Just shoot them and leave them in the desert for the rattlesnakes?"

"No – Bittern wanted something that 'made a statement,'" Gordon said, wiggling his fingers in air quotes. "Refused to tell us exactly _what_ , though – said we'd just screw it up if we knew."

"You must have _some_ idea," Alice said dangerously, driving her knee deeper into his sternum.

"Ow! Look, seriously, I'm not sure! All he had me do the other day was take a look at the church and then, later, go get a train table!"

"Train table?" Lorraine repeated. "So he's taking them to another town!"

"Maybe – which means we need someone to go to the station _now_ ," Christopher said. "Even if they've already taken Jennifer and Clara – which I hope they haven't – maybe we can stop them there."

"That's on the other side of town, though!" Linda cried.

"You mean the _one street_ that makes up Hill Valley?" Richard responded. "Cripes, I could probably _jump_ there in a single bound!"

"Great – go do that!" Christopher declared, pointing. "Emily, Victoria, go with him, and make sure everyone there knows what's coming! I'm going to fetch Strickland and _guarantee_ at least one of these miscreants ends up in jail tonight!"

With that, he strode out, arms swinging with purpose. Victor nodded, then glared at Gordon. "So – going to try anything _else_ funny?"

"With _her_ on top of me?" Gordon shook his head, wincing again as the blade just barely nicked his throat. "No. I'm done. This is bullshit. My 'famous' cousin or whatever is an outlaw, I've got a Reanimated killer on my arse, and I nearly just got slaughtered by a pregnant lady. All I wanna do now is go home."

"Well, if it makes you feel better, Strickland can probably arrange that," Lorraine said, arms folded. "We need _our_ cells open for the _local_ criminal scum."

Whatever Gordon planned to say in response was cut off by a loud groan from outside. Victor poked his head around the door to see Doc and George helping William into a pew, Marty hovering around like an anxious moth beating its wings at a light bulb. "William?" he asked, stepping outside.

"Uncle Will?" Linda pushed past him, hurrying over to see what was going on. "You okay?"

"I've been better," William replied, one hand cupping a nasty lump on his head. "Yeow. . .what kind of man goes after two ladies answering the call of nature?"

"The same kind that stabs brides from behind and leaves them for dead in the woods," Emily informed him, joining the group. "At least you didn't get a knife through your ribs. . .want me to fetch the doctor?"

"One of Strickland's men is heading that way already," George informed her. "The one left _standing_ , anyway. I don't know _how_ they managed it, but apparently this 'Barkis' fellow and Buford managed to take most of the guard out before clubbing William and dragging away the girls. The deputy told us they put up a fight, but the two slung them over a couple of horses and fled toward the train station."

"Gordon just told us that Barkis had him steal a train table the other day," Victor said. "We think he's either going to sneak aboard a train or hijack one."

"Yeah, I'm supposed to get down to the train station with these two, according to Christopher," Richard said, looking between Emily and Victoria. "If you girls want, I could _probably_ manage a double piggyback. . . ."

"Rather you waited for me, actually."

Strickland appeared, Christopher by his side. "So – had a little incident?" he continued, face grim. "And here's me thinking we had more than enough men to cover whatever might happen. . . ."

"We've got one of them, sir," Victor said, standing a little straighter. "Gordon Tannen, thanks to my wife. And we know where the other two are headed."

"And one of your boys going for the doctor," William put in, letting out a little hiss of pain. "Don't know about the rest of them – don't _think_ anyone's dead, but that bastard hit me _hard_."

"They knew the risks when they took the badge," Strickland replied stoically. "But yes, hopefully I don't have to inform anyone their husband or father or son isn't coming home. . .so they're off to the train station?"

"That's where all the evidence points, anyway," Christopher nodded.

"Not surprised – not the first time Tannen's attempted a hijacking." Strickland straightened the brim of his hat. "Don't know if we can catch them there now, but best to get down there and at least see what trains are due in and out."

"Right!" Richard scooped Victoria and Emily up into his arms. "Let's be off!"

"I'll catch up in a moment," Doc said, waving them off as he headed for the doors. "I need something from my shop first."

"Hate to say it, Doc, but little late to get the Terminator," Marty said, shaking his head.

"I know. That's not what I'm looking for."

On that cryptic note, he vanished outside. Strickland squinted after him, then decided there were more pressing matters to discuss inside. "Right. . .you said your _wife's_ got the younger Mr. Tannen under control?" he said to Victor.

"Trust me – when she puts someone down, they stay _down_ ," Victor promised him.

"You should have had _her_ on guard," Linda agreed. "Pregnant or not. It was – something."

"He's in good hands, Marshall," Alice called. "Though I am getting a _bit_ tired of kneeling here, so if someone could find their way to getting some rope or handcuffs. . . ."

Strickland peered through the door at her. "Well I'll be. . .George, would you mind, er, relieving the lady?" he added, as awkward as Victor had ever seen him look.

"Not a problem," George said, going in. "If he gives us any trouble – well, Lorraine can attest to me having a surprisingly good right hook."

"Much appreciated, George," Alice said.

"Yeah, please get the crazy lady off me," Gordon whined.

"Shush, you."

"Yes, ma'am."

Strickland shook his head, took a deep breath, then turned back to the others. "All right – lead the way, Mr. Dodgson."

"Delighted!"

* * *

As Richard had predicted, the trip to the station didn't take long at all – even with coordinating an anxious groom, three Touched in various states of angry unease, a Reanimated clearly fighting off bad memories, her noble-born friend doing much the same, and the local head of law enforcement taking all of this in and wondering were exactly his disciplined life had gone astray. They were there within minutes of leaving the church. Better yet, the platform was empty, allowing them direct access to the men in the ticket booths. "Excuse me, good sirs!" Richard said, bending over to meet their startled eyes. "I don't suppose Buford Tannen and a blue-tinted friend with an enormous chin showed up here in the near past?"

"Ah, no," one of the men replied, looking Richard up and down. "You, uh, you that mechanical man Starkey keeps saying he clobbered?"

"What? Oh, now that's just hurtful," Richard pouted. "He won fair and square, I'll give him that, but _clobbered_?"

"Getting distracted, dear," Emily said, tugging on his sleeve.

"We've had a kidnapping," Strickland explained, stepping to the front. "Miss Jennifer Parker and Miss Clara Clayton. Tannen and his friend – a Lord Barkis Bittern – took them from the church just a little while ago. From what we've learned, it seems they're looking to hop a train."

"Oh – well, the eight o'clock to San Francisco left on time and without any trouble," the man said, looking to his colleagues for confirmation. "And we certainly haven't seen–"

"Marshall! Marshall!"

A man in engineer's clothes came running up the track, waving his arms. "Thank God you're here!" he called, cupping soot-stained hands around his mouth. "Tannen just took my train!"

"Damn it!" Marty ran to meet him, Strickland and the others not far behind. "The eight o'clock?"

The engineer nodded, taking off his cap to mop the sweat from his forehead. "Earnest Day," he introduced himself. "Me and young Bob weren't too far along the track when I heard a thump behind me, and when I turned around, there's a gun in my face. Mad Dog Tannen and some blue fella."

"That'll be Bittern – jerk with a chip on his shoulder when it comes to me and my friends," Marty explained, tugging anxiously at the holster strapped to his leg. "They just kidnapped my bride and Doc's – the new schoolteacher! Did they have the girls with them?"

"Yeah, two ladies, tied up tight," Day nodded. "Younger one draped over this Bittern fellow like a scarf, older one on Mad Dog's shoulder. Judging by his hand and his scowl, she'd bit him not long ago."

"Ha – good going, Clara," Emily said, folding her arms. "So they're headed to San Francisco?"

"Ain't got much of a choice, 'les they find a switchtrack," Day told her. "They ordered me and Bob out, then fired the engine back up. We managed to get the passenger cars unhooked before they started moving, but they didn't seem to care." Day scratched his head. "Like all they wanted was the locomotive."

"That's not like Buford," Strickland muttered. "He would have been up and down that train gathering valuables with that gang of his."

"Barkis probably told him they ought to get away as fast as possible," Victoria said. "For all the man's faults, he's not a complete idiot."

"Right – and if they've only just set out, we might still be able to catch them," Strickland said with a nod. "Mr. Dodgson, Mr. Lloyd, go over to Statler's and see if that old skinflint might lend us some of his faster horses. I'm going to go round up whoever's still standing and–"

"What on God's green earth is going _on_ around here?!"

Mayor Gillin seemingly materialized from the ether on the platform behind them, face set in the deepest and most put-upon scowl Victor had seen on him yet. "I've just heard the news from Reverend Warwick – a kidnapping! In _church_! Right under my Marshall's nose!" Gillin turned on Marty, pointing an accusing finger. "Mister McFly, when I allowed you to invite your 'friends' to this wedding, it was with the understanding that they would behave themselves!"

"What – this is _not_ our fault!" Christopher gasped, eyes wide.

"Then why did my town suddenly plunge into chaos almost the moment you arrived?"

"Because Tannen found himself two fellow assholes with a grudge against us!" Marty shouted, hands balled into fists. "You think I _wanted_ Jennifer to get kidnapped right before our wedding?!"

"Given the sort of _shenanigans_ you and yours get up to – I saw what happened at the festival! Heard what occurred at the saloon before I showed up!" Gillin looked away and spat. "I should have known better. The very presence of Touched anywhere invites disaster!"

"You know, the constant hostility we've had to endure almost our entire time here doesn't help matters."

Victor started, looking around the mayor. "Alice? What are you–"

"Once George had Gordon in hand, I figured I would be better suited to keeping you from panicking too much," Alice replied, circling the sputtering Gillin to take his hand. "Rather impressed with my speed, to be honest. . .so Buford and Barkis have gotten themselves a train?"

"Yes, and time is of the essence if we're going to catch them," Victor said, with a hard look for Gillin. "Surely you don't hold so much of a grudge against us that you'd let two innocent women die – or worse!"

"Of course I don't want any harm to come to poor Miss Parker and Miss Clayton," Gillin snapped. "Which is why there is no 'we' when it comes to catching Tannen and his friend. _You_ lot are going to stay here, at this train station, while the good men actually _equipped_ to save people go after Tannen and this 'Bittern!' And the moment they come back, you _Touched_ will board the first train _out_ of my town, and–"

"And if you think I'm going to just sit around idly sweating instead of fighting to get my _girlfriend_ back, you're crazier than I am."

Everyone's heads swiveled to see Doc mounting the steps to the platform, hair stirred by a breeze that had a hell of a sense of timing. "Not that I don't trust you to do all you can to rescue her, Marshall," he added with a polite nod to Strickland. "But honestly, in this instance? I truly believe I'm the one best equipped to deal with this threat."

"Poppycock!" Gillin declared, somehow making the word sound like the vilest of swears. "This is _not_ your fight, Brown! In fact, I think I can safely say that you are the _cause_ of this disaster! Everyone knows that you and Tannen had it out over his horse recently! _You_ are the reason he's been troubling us so lately! And if _you_ had just bothered to leave our new schoolteacher _alone_ , then perhaps she wouldn't be in such distress right now!" He wagged a finger at Doc's nose. "And don't give me that nonsense about her being your 'girlfriend!' Any right-thinking woman wouldn't have a _thing_ to do with you! I'm sure she agreed to be your partner at the dance out of nothing more than _pity_!" He straightened his hat and stood up to his full height (which, honestly, wasn't that much, though admittedly everyone looked shorter near Richard). "Whatever you're planning – whatever cockamamie scheme you've cooked up to 'save' those poor girls – I _forbid_ you to do it!"

There was a moment of heavily-charged silence. "Hubert – I know that, in your mind, you're just looking out for the town," Doc said at last, looking the mayor straight in the eyes. "I understand that you have reasons to dislike Marty and me. I will even admit that I haven't always been as careful as I should have been when it comes to my experimenting. That you have cause to consider me dangerous." He advanced a step, and Victor could practically see the lightning arcing around him. "But – right here, right now? I no longer _care_. Because I've realized that, no matter how hard we try, you are _never_ going to accept Marty's and my attempts to make amends. That you are _never_ going to truly accept me and my friends. That you are _never_ going to see Touched in general as anything but a threat. You can hate me all you like, Gillin, but I refuse to be your _scapegoat_ for everything that goes wrong in this town! _Especially_ not with the woman I love's life on the line!" He held up his hand, brandishing some mysterious little box. "So take your forbidding me do anything and shove it where the sun don't shine, Gillin!" _chug chug_ "Because I'm no longer holding myself back!" _chug chug chug chug_ "Because I'm smarter and stronger than you'll ever be!" _chugchugchugchugchug_ "Because I'm going to rescue Clara or die trying!" _chugchughchUGCHUGCHUGCHUG_ "And because _I own a flying train, you troglodyte_!"

The sky overhead went dark as the glorious figure of Doc's train appeared above them, wheels churning the sky. Mayor Gillin gawked, jaw almost to the dirt. "What – how did – you – you _couldn't_ have gotten it here so fast. . . ."

"Oh yes I could," Doc replied, manipulating the buttons on his box. The train obligingly slid sideways and down, until it was just skimming the rails. "Its top speed is 88 miles per hour, after all. Not to mention I called it here before I even left my shop!" He looked around at his friends. "Who's with me?"

"Me!" Emily cried, bouncing. "I don't know what I can do, but if you need any help, count me in!"

"And me," Victoria agreed. "I won't let anyone else fall to that awful Bittern if I can help it."

"You've got my sword – metaphorically speaking, though damn I wish I wasn't," Christopher said, glaring at the empty spot on this side.

"You have my very _unmetaphorical_ finger gun," Richard said with a grin, holding it up. "Perhaps we can all come up with a good way to catch the scoundrels in midair!"

"Hey, it's _my_ bride they've got – you think I'm waiting around?" Marty asked, folding his arms. "Let's put Johnson's gun to good use."

"I'll do whatever I can to assist," Victor promised.

"Me too – and don't you dare tell me I need to stay here," Alice added, shooting Victor a warning look.

Victor returned it flatly. "You just took down my worst childhood bully, who attempted to kidnap you, without even breaking a sweat. I wouldn't _dream_ of leaving you behind."

Alice broke out in a smirk. "Oh, is _that_ what it takes for you to stop treating me like I'm made of glass? We should have invited Gordon over to our house months ago then."

"This is – this is mutiny!" Gillin roared, clamping his hat to his scalp.

"No, this is just me not putting up with your bullshit anymore," Doc replied, opening the door for everyone with his remote. "Please try to hold your histrionics until we've returned, all right?"

"No! Strickland!" Gillin shouted, pointing at the group as they rushed to board. "Arrest these miscreants! You know what'll happen if they're allowed to just run around doing as they will! They'll bring the whole town down around our ears!"

Strickland looked at Gillin, then at Doc. He pursed his lips, a heavy silence clinging to him. "You know I'm a great believer in the law, Mayor," he said at last. "And discipline. And I _do_ know how badly this could all go. But you know what?" He pushed back his hat. "I believe in love too. And in saving those two ladies before the eight o'clock gets too far ahead." He gave Doc a serious nod as Gillin gaped. "You go on, Dr. Brown – you're right, you have a much better chance of catching that train than we do. We'll stay here and assess the damage, make sure Tannen and friends didn't pull anything else." He hit Doc with a stern look. "But we'll have a few words once you get back.

"Understood," Doc said, nodding back. "And thank you." He turned toward the train, mounting the steps with purpose. "All right, everyone, get settled!"

Gillin grabbed Victor's arm as he helped his wife up and inside. "If I see _one_ crack in _one_ window–" he started, snarling.

Victor yanked himself free. "Oh, will you give it a rest? We're _leaving_ your precious town – isn't that what you _wanted_?"

Gillin had no response to that. Marty laughed as Victor bounded up the stairs. "Nice one! I mean, we're gonna catch hell for it when we get back, but nice one."

"More than worth it," Victor declared, settling in beside Alice. "All aboard, Doc! Let's open her up!"

"My pleasure, Victor!" Doc yanked a lever and spun a crank as the stairs lifted back into place. "Hold on, everyone!"

The train let out a mighty _SCREEEECH_ – then, with a little _bump-kathump_ , began to move. Victor took Alice's arm as they rose above the ramshackle roof of the train station. "I'd forgotten how _noisy_ this could be," he admitted in an undertone, using his free hand to massage his ear.

"Me too," Alice said, jumping as Doc blew the whistle twice, apparently just for the fun of it. Then she gave him a little grin. "But it's nice to be reminded, anyway. I'd missed this."

"So had I," Victor confessed, unable to help a smile of his own. Outside the window, the countryside began to blur as Doc guided them along the tracks connecting Hill Valley to San Francisco, wind whistling as they picked up speed. "If only it was under better circumstances!" He rubbed his face, all pleasure fading. "I hope we're not too late. That nothing too horrible has happened to Jennifer and Clara."

"It sounds like they didn't go without a fight," Alice reassured him. "And Clara at least knows how to handle herself against Buford Tannen, if the dance is any indication."

"We're getting them back," Doc added, overhearing. "Come hell or high water."

Victor thought about their previous encounters with Bittern, and gulped. "Here's hoping it doesn't come to either."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \-->The whole thing with Doc needing a refresher on how to tie his tie is because -- well, I looked up the process for something else I was fiddling with at the time, and I wanted to show off my new knowledge. XD Sometimes it's as simple as that.
> 
> \-->The "lunch break" Doc mentions is a reference to a couple of gift fics I've written a friend over on fanfiction-dot-net, who likes "saucier" Valice fics set in the Secundus world. Basically, Uncle Charles and Aunt Susan were out of the house, and some light fooling around happened. Victor came back pretty, uh, flushed. XD
> 
> \-->Richard's comment about being able to get to the train station in a single bound is actually a reference to Hatter's massive jumps that bring him and Alice to "Assembly (And Destruction)" at the end of the Hatter's Domain level in _Alice: Madness Returns_. Dude can move when he wants to (and when he has all his parts!)
> 
> \-->Day's co-engineer Bob is, of course, named for the two Bobs responsible for the BTTF trilogy -- Bob Gale and Bob Zemeckis.


	11. Going Off The Rails On This Crazy Train

September 7th, 1882

Hill Valley, California

8:20 A.M.

"Any sign of them yet, Doc?"

"No, but we have to be coming up on them soon," Doc declared, peering intently through the large window before him. "They couldn't have gotten that good of a head start, given they had to stop the train to hijack it."

Victor pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'm still having a bit of trouble believing all this," he admitted, slumping in his seat. "Barkis Bittern, back again. Whose bright idea was it to Reanimate _him_? The world was a much better place from the moment he died!"

"I don't know, but when we get back to Secundus, I'm going to find out," Alice replied darkly. "And have a few _words_ with them. Though I guess it's our own fault for not looking harder for the body. I seriously believed those Boojums had made a snack of – ah!"

"What?!" Victor cried, anxiety levels instantly spiking straight through the roof. _Oh no, no no no, not now! Please do not tell me the baby is coming now! Oh, I_ knew _we'd put too much stress on her!_

"Do I have to–" Christopher started, as Victor sprang up and immediately started looking for a blanket.

"Not that!" Alice said quickly, raising her hand. "It's not the baby, I swear. Just – something warm hit my leg just now."

"Warm?" Blinking, Victor got down on his hands and knees and peeked under the seat. Two beady little eyes set above a steaming spout mouth stared back at him. "Oh – I'd forgotten you were on here," he said, relaxing. "It's just the Grasshopper Teapot. . .it's all right," he added, reaching out to stroke its side gently with two fingers. "Nobody here's going to hurt you."

The Teapot didn't seem convinced, skittering away from his touch to hug the side of the train. "Oh, I see. . .well, if it wants to stay under the seat, it's welcome," Alice said, knocking a stray strand of hair out of her face. "Last thing we need is it leaping all over the place."

"Mmm," Christopher hummed in agreement. "We have much worse things to worry about. . .we should have guessed it was Bittern sooner," he continued, brushing down the sides of his mustache with his fingers. "I mean – who else would know that much about what happened with the Queen? Who else simply _hates_ us that much?"

"Yes, well, Victor put it best – who among us would have believed anyone would bring him _back_?" Victoria pointed out. "And he died _before_ Victor killed the Queen, so why would we think he'd know about the spiders?"

"Everyone knows about the spiders," Victor mumbled, shoulders slumped. "It wouldn't have been hard for him to pick it up before he left Secundus."

"True – and hopefully, it's one of the reasons he left us alone instead of immediately seeking revenge," Alice said, leaning up against him. "Well, that and everyone in the city wanting his head. Just our luck, isn't it?"

"Yes. . .Marty, you didn't happen to say that everything should go 'according to plan' at any point this morning, did you?" Victor weakly joked. "Victoria and I know from our parents bandying them about all throughout our arranged engagement that those words are a trap."

"Hey, I spent my morning worrying that Buford was going to crash the party and blow my head off," Marty told him. "'According to plan' never even crossed my mind. But come on, Victor, you've lived in Secundus how long now? You should know that we don't _need_ any plans for everything to go completely tits-up."

"That may be so, but I refuse to let things _stay_ that way," Doc replied, scanning the ground below them again. "We took every reasonable precaution we could with the information we had and the resources at our disposal. And while Barkis might have surprised us, I'm hoping _this_ will surprise him right back." He slapped the side of the control panel, tweaking a lever. "Speaking of which – I've got him in our sights!"

Everyone promptly sprang out of their seats to crowd around him at the controls, peering out of every available window. Sure enough, right below them, a much more ordinary-looking black locomotive was chugging along the tracks, dragging a wood car behind it. "Excellent!" Christopher cried. "So – what's the best way to stop it?"

"Derail it?" Richard suggested. "We've got plenty of rope – lasso the smokestack and give it a good yank?"

"Mmm – the Jules Verne train – yes, of course that's what I've decided to call it," he added in response to a few knowing grins directed his way. "Anyway, it _could_ exert the necessary force, I think, but it's not a sure thing. Not to mention, it's too likely to maim or kill everyone on board. I've _seen_ trains derail before – it is _not_ a pretty sight."

"Yes, much too dangerous," Christopher agreed, rubbing his chin. "But connecting the two trains is probably a good idea, just for ease of transferring the luckless passengers. If we could just get them to slow down somehow–"

_**BOOM!** _

The shockwave hit them without warning, making the entire train judder and dance. Victor yelped as he was thrown to the floor, along with a luckless Victoria and Richard. "What the – damn it!" Doc yanked some levers and spun a wheel, fighting to regain control. "Everyone all right?"

"You should carpet this stupid thing," Richard said into the floor. "Ow."

"Could have been worse, though," Victor said, looking up at Alice. She was clinging to the nearest handhold with all her might, hunched protectively over her stomach. "What _was_ that?"

"The other train!" Emily reported, standing on tiptoe as she looked out the door window. "They just _jumped_ ahead! I didn't think trains could go so fast so _quickly_!"

"They normally can't!" Doc told her, getting their vehicle stabilized. "I had to make a _lot_ of modifications to this locomotive to get it to run safely at high speeds, and even _then_ I was reluctant to take it past 50 until I got the hover conversion sorted and thus didn't have to worry about obstacles on the tracks."

"Well, whatever they did, it definitely worked," Christopher commented, helping Victoria off the floor. He went and looked over Emily's shoulder. "Wonder why it made the smoke turn green, though?"

Doc and Marty both froze. "Green?" Doc repeated quietly.

"Er, yes." Christopher tapped on the door. "If you want, you can see it pretty clearly–"

"Great _Scott_!" Doc slammed a lever against the dashboard. The train leapt forward in response, forcing everyone to grab onto something (except Richard, who was simply forced to abandon his attempt to stand up). "Barkis must be a better thief than Buford ever was – though, I admit, I was so focused on getting the remote I didn't take a proper look around my lab!"

"Your lab?" Victoria said, hanging tight to Christopher's arm. "What did they take?"

"The Presto-Logs!" Marty cried, joining Doc at the controls. "God damn it – we can still keep up with them, right?"

"Yes, though it's likely to be a lot harder," Doc responded, gritting his teeth as his eyes raked over the many little meters and dials in front of him. "And a lot more dangerous. As I said, this train is _built_ to take the punishment, whereas _that_ one. . . ."

"Wait, wait, wait," Victor said, waving a hand as he pushed himself back upright. "Presto-Logs – those special logs you made for your forge? The ones you said Mayor Gillin would have your head if you used again?"

"Precisely – because I accidentally _blew up_ my forge with them," Doc confirmed. "That was the inciting incident of our expulsion from Hill Valley. Those three you saw were the last ones, which I was keeping stored to prevent any other accidents. And now Buford and Barkis are using them to increase the speed of their train!" He slapped the dashboard. "How the hell did they even _know_ about them?"

"Gordon!" Emily cried, giving Richard a stabilizing shoulder as he finally got up. "You were talking about them the same day he showed up and got himself caught in your trap! The door was open – he must have overheard!"

"And we already know he was willing to tell Barkis _anything_ if it meant not dying by his hand," Alice agreed, frowning deeply. "Though, ah, can we go back for a moment to the part where you said you _blew up_ your forge with those things?"

"Yes – wrong color log," Doc said, glancing back at her. "I created them in three color grades – green, yellow, and red. Green was 'standard metalwork,' yellow 'more advanced metalwork,' red the emergency 'for some reason I need the stupid thing hotter than the fires of hell.' Red required me to do some pretty extensive prepwork beforehand – but on the day it all went down, I was working on something else, and didn't look when I grabbed the log. . .not two minutes later, _boom_!"

Victor looked down at the train below them, green smoke pouring from its stack. "So. . .w-what are these logs going to do to that train?" he asked slowly.

"Well, it seems to be handling the green one all right," Doc said, squinting. "But if they progress up through the yellow and the red. . .that boiler was only built to handle about 2,000 degrees Fahrenheit, and I know for a _fact_ the red log will kick it _way_ above that."

"So – um – that means–"

"Yes," Doc said with a nod. "We have to catch them before that damn boiler _explodes_."

There was a moment of silence. "That would be – ideal," Victor finally squeaked.

"How long do you think we have?" Christopher asked.

"Hopefully a little time – I don't _think_ they're dumb enough to throw them all in at once," Doc said, biting his lip. "Or, at least, Barkis isn't. Buford. . . ."

"Why do they even _want_ to go so fast?" Victoria demanded. "I mean, even if Barkis knows about your flying train – and I'm not sure he does, _I_ never brought it up when I was forced to interact with him – he probably wouldn't think it could fly as fast as it can. And they must know even an ordinary train can outpace a horse."

"We can question them once we catch up with them," Doc said, inching the train to the left. "I'm going to see just how close I can get. You lot, think of ways we can bridge the gap so Jennifer and Clara can get safely across. As safely as possible at these speeds, anyway."

"Well, we've still got the ladder – whoa, whoa, hold up Doc," Marty said suddenly, pointing at a curving split in the tracks ahead of them as Doc started lowering the train. "Hang on until they take the turn toward San Fran. Crashing into them isn't gonna do any of us any favors."

"Ah, right, good thinking," Doc said, pausing his descent. "I'll wait for the next stretch of level track."

"Hang on a second, that's a switch track," Richard observed, looking over both their shoulders. "There's two ways they could go. How do you know that they're not going to head straight?"

"Because those tracks don't lead anywhere yet," Marty told him. "That's gonna be the new line over the Shonash Ravine bridge, which isn't getting finished until next year. Right now it's just a long run to an even. . .longer. . . ."

Victor hadn't thought anyone could get whiter than he naturally was, but Marty was giving it his best go. "Shit," he whispered, knuckles in his mouth. "They're – they're not. Are they?"

"Are they what?" Doc asked, looking at him.

"Going straight?" Emily said in a trembling voice, pointing as the locomotive beneath them blazed forward, ignoring the turn entirely.

"They _are_!" Marty pressed himself up against the instrument panel. "What the _hell_ are they _thinking_?! They're gonna die too!"

"Barkis already did – maybe he figures, if someone brought him back _once_ –" Christopher jabbed a finger at the window. "Doc, get down there!"

"On it!"

With various _hisses_ of steam, _squeaks_ of wheels, and _kachunks_ of levers, the Jules Verne train descended until it was directly next to the hijacked one, matching its speed with ease. Victor peered through the door window as they drew level with the locomotive. Its side was open, allowing him a clear view of the cab – and of Barkis and Buford at the controls. The two were arguing – Victor couldn't _quite_ hear them over the wind, but he did catch a snatch of something that sounded like "nearly threw me off like a buckin' bronco!" Apparently Buford hadn't enjoyed the firing of the Presto-Log any more than they had. . .and propped up behind them, both looking madder than wet hens, were poor Jennifer and Clara, hands behind their back and feet tied tightly together. The pair were squirming mightily, taking advantage of their captors being distracted to try and get free of their bonds. "I see them, Doc!" he called. "They don't seem to have noticed us yet, though!"

"Then we'll just have to get their attention!" Doc replied, grabbing the whistle-rope.

 _WHOOO-WHOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!_ Buford jumped, looking around for the source of the sound – then his eyes fell on the Jules Verne train, and his jaw nearly hit the ground. "The _hell_?!" he cried.

"Stand back, Victor!" Doc yelled. With a flick of a switch, the cab doors opened. Victor retreated backward as the wind pummeled the small space, sending hair and skirts streaming and forcing Richard to clamp his hat to his head with a hand. "Hello there, Tannen! And _Lord_ Barkis!"

The expression on Barkis's face as he took in what was chugging along next to him was a sight to behold. "Is – is _this_ that famous flying train of yours?" he yelled, looking over as much of its length as he could. "You dragged it all the way to _California_?"

"How do you think we _got_ to California, dumbass?!" Mary yelled back, clinging to the door frame as he peered out past him. "Jennifer, you okay?"

"Marty! I've been better!" Jennifer called, yanking on her wrists for emphasis. "Damn, though, it's good to see you!"

"I don't see _why_ – how on earth are they supposed to _help_ you?" Barkis inquired, smarmy smile back in place. "Jumping from that train to this would be suicide at this speed. Those delightful logs I picked up from Dr. Brown's laboratory after Gordon's little tip have made sure of that. In fact. . . ." He glanced at a nearby dial. "If I'm reading this right, the next one should be about to blow. It won't be long before this whole train goes up in a blaze of glory in the middle of Shonash Ravine." He turned the grin on Doc. "How does it feel to know your own Invention shall lead to your beloved's death?"

"Go to hell!" Doc replied, face red. "I can match your speed right up until the end!"

"And in case you haven't noticed, _you're_ on the train you're planning on sending over the edge!" Emily added, hands cupped around her mouth like a trumpet. "I don't think anyone's going to be able to bring you back from the crash you're planning!"

"He's got a plan to get us off!" Buford shot back, before turning a hard stare on Barkis. "You do, right, you walkin' sack of maggots?"

"Well – I have a plan to get _me_ off," Barkis told him, shining his knuckles on his lapel.

"You?! What – what about me?!" Buford demanded, sounding genuinely frightened for the first time since Victor had known him.

"You? Your incompetent arse can die, for all I care." Barkis suddenly swung his fist, catching Buford on the chin and sending him sprawling. "In fact, if I'm honest, getting you and that twit Gordon out of my hair along with these lovely ladies was the main reason I came up with this plan."

"So I actually saved Gordon's life by slamming him to the floor and putting my knife to his throat?" Alice said. "Did not expect that."

"Neither did I – but I should have," Barkis added, scowling. "Of _course_ there was no way he would actually successfully capture _you_." His eyes raked over Alice's belly. "Even in your current condition. Wasting your life on playing nursemaid to Van Dort's child? Tsk tsk – I expected better."

"Shut up," Victor hissed, stepping in front of his wife. "You're not laying a finger on her. And you're not going to send Jennifer and Clara to their deaths either."

"Oh no no no – I'm not letting any of you play the hero again." Barkis's yellow eyes fixed on Victor's, burning with pure hatred. "Particularly not _you_. Gordon couldn't get your dear Alice under control? Fine." His hands clenched into white-knuckled fists. "It's _you_ that I want!"

Without any other warning, Barkis threw himself across the two trains, digging his fingers into Victor's shirt and trying to drag him out the door. Victor screamed and latched onto the frame as best he could as Alice flung her arms around his waist. "Shit! Doc! Get us away from the tracks!" Marty yelled, gesturing wildly at his best friend. "If he goes under the wheels, he's a goner!"

"Way ahead of you!" Doc cried, throwing some levers. A _click_ , a _thump_ , and the train began to rise again –

Unfortunately, dragging Barkis with it. "Ha! Thank you for the free ride!" Barkis laughed, changing tactics and attempting to use Victor's body as a ladder into the cab. "Going to leave your 'beloveds' to crash, are we?"

"Get _off_ me!" Victor yelled, trying to kick Barkis free.

"Not until you suffer what I have suffered! I'll take you all on!" Barkis declared, eyes gleaming as he sought in his coat for a weapon.

 _BANG!_ Barkis yelped as a bullet embedded itself in his arm. "Yeah, that'll work out well for you!" Marty snarled, lining up another shot.

"There's _eight_ of us and _one_ of you!" Richard agreed, he, Christopher, Victoria, and Emily moving forward. "In what universe does this situation lead to _you_ having the upper hand?"

_**BOOOOOOOOOOOOM!** _

Sparks flew as the runaway leaped ahead again, yellow smoke filling the air as another shockwave rocked the Jules Verne train. Victor saw his friends stumble and fall, felt Alice's hands slip as she grabbed for a handhold – and then his own were flailing in midair as he lost his fragile grip on the door frame. " _VICTOR!_ " followed him down as he and Barkis tumbled through the sky, scything through the mustard fog –

 _CRUNCH!_ And then, by some miracle, landing in the wood car. Victor bit back another scream as his spine and limbs protested being slammed into rather a lot of hard, pointy wood. "Well," he gasped through the pain, finally kicking free of Barkis. "Looks like – that didn't – go according – to plan!"

"No. . .but it'll do," Barkis said, rolling upright. He shot Victor a final grin as he crawled toward the edge of the car. "Enjoy your final ride, Mr. Van Dort! I'll be sure to offer my condolences to your widow afterward!"

And then, before Victor could do more than fling an arm in his general direction, he swung himself over the side, disappearing into the streamers of smoke still pouring from the smokestack. "Damn it," Victor grumbled, forcing himself to sit up. "If only I knew where he got his self-confidence. . . ."

"Victor!"

Victor looked up to see the Jules Verne train hovering over him, his friends crowded around the door. Richard and Victoria had a solid grip on Alice, as if afraid she was about to throw herself after him. "Holy shit – are you all right?" Marty yelled, one hand cupped around his mouth.

"As all right as I can be!" Victor yelled back, straining his voice above the doubled roar of the trains. "Barkis got away, though! I'm sorry!"

"Forget him – it's _you_ we're worried about!" Alice cried, reaching out to him. "Doc's going to try to – oh!"

The Grasshopper Teapot abruptly skittered out from under her skirt, leaping through the open door. It landed neatly next to Victor, lid rattling but otherwise none the worse for wear. "What – you silly thing!" Victor scolded it, grabbing it by the handle before it could go any further. "You're lucky you can jump like that, otherwise–"

The light bulb clicked on in his head. Jump like that. . .Barkis might have claimed it was suicide, but that was based on normal _human_ jumping. . . . "Hey!" he yelled, waving with his free hand as he turned his attention skyward. "Tell Doc to go back where he was! Next to the front of the train!"

"What?!"

"We're not _leaving_ you there!" Marty protested. "Look, it'll take us just a second to find the ladder–"

"Which isn't going to help Jennifer and Clara while they're tied up with Buford!" Victor pointed out. "I can get to them now, see if I can get them loose! And then. . . ." He held up the wiggling Grasshopper. "Then I think it's time to test this out."

"Oh God – Victor, that's pretty dangerous!" Emily called down. "What if it doesn't work?"

"Find the ladder anyway, keep it on standby! If nothing else, I can show them how to hold on!" He waved them forward, shaking his head. "Hurry! We don't know how long we have before the final log! Or the bridge!"

"It's coming up fast – okay, try and get to them!" Marty agreed. " _Without_ falling off! We'll see what we can do from here!"

"Be _careful_!" Alice added, eyes watery. "I am _not_ raising your child alone!"

Victor gave her an encouraging smile – which was probably lost in the smoke, but no one could say he hadn't tried. "Best climber to come out of Burtonsville, remember? I know how to hang onto things! I'll make it, I promise!"

"You'd better – I'm not getting married without _both_ my best men there!" Marty called as the train began to move forward. "Seriously, Victor – don't do anything stupid!"

"I promise!" Victor repeated. He watched the train head back cabward, then ducked his head with an anxious swallow. "I hope I can _keep_ that promise. . . ."

With the Grasshopper Teapot clutched safely to his chest, he looked back up, trying to get an idea of how he was going to proceed. The wood car would be easy enough to navigate, but getting into the locomotive itself. . .clearly there was a connector he could use to walk across, and he had the _best_ motivation for keeping his balance, but after that. . .how the hell was he going to get past Buford without getting shot? And then get everyone safely off the train before it all went to pieces? Was all this just a fool's errand before the inevitable?

 _Won't know until I try,_ he thought, biting his lower lip. _And not trying is_ not _an option._ He took a deep breath to steady himself – then promptly hacked it back up as he got a lungful of smoke. "Ah! Well – chack – n-not the greatest start," he admitted to himself, before glancing down at the Grasshopper Teapot. "Ready?"

The Teapot squirmed in his grasp, clearly eager to get away. "Me either," Victor admitted. "But neither of us have any other choice. Come on."

He got low to avoid the worst of the smoke, then crawled forward, eyes streaming as the wind tore at his face, and the wood stabbed his fingers and knees with a multitude of tiny splinters. As he reached the edge, he finally caught a glimpse of the open back of the cab. The girls were difficult to pick out through the haze, but they were still wiggling away, trying to slip free of their bonds. Buford, meanwhile, was a frantic shape darting here and there, at an utter loss to figure out what to do. "That – that no good, egg-sucking, gutter trash dead-walker!" he screamed, punching the controls to relieve his feelings. "I'm gonna get him but good! Gonna rip his guts out and use 'em as a lasso! Hollow out that chin for a canteen! Cut him into pieces and throw him bit by bit to the coyotes!"

"As if I'll stop you," Victor muttered, wiping the smoke and tears from his eyes. He looked down over the lip of the car. As he'd guessed, there was a connector there – and happily, it was rather wide and quite solid-looking. Better yet, the roof of the cab extended out _just_ far enough and _just_ low enough to grab. Victor cupped the Grasshopper against his ribs and steadied himself with the handhold, before swinging his legs around to slide out of the car and onto the connector. The rumble of the wheels made him teeter dangerously for a second, but he gripped the roof all the tighter until he got his balance. Then, in one poorly-coordinated movement, he darted forward, stumbling into the cab itself –

Just in time for Buford to turn around and notice him. "HEY!"

The Tannen charged at him like an enraged bull – Victor, through an act of acrobatic grace he would have never accomplished if he'd stopped to think about it, whirled out of the way, pressing himself into the corner. Buford just barely managed to catch himself on the cab's open back, shaking with fear and rage as he got himself turned back around. "You little – this is all _your_ fault!" he screamed, meaty paws reaching for Victor's neck. "Whole reason that stupid walking maggot feast even _talked_ to us was 'cause of you!"

"I'm trying to _save_ all of us!" Victor cried, ducking under his hands and darting over to where the girls sat. _Dear Lord, I never thought I'd be_ grateful _for all those times I had to avoid Gordon trying to knock my lights out like this!_ "If you'll just give me a chance–"

"Ain't givin' no Madboy no chance!" Buford roared, pursuing with murder in his grime-streaked face. "I lost my horse to Brown, and everything else to that blue-skinned bastard! So now I'm gonna take it out of _your_ – AAAUGH!"

Buford flopped to the ground, curling up into a ball as he cradled his injured privates. " _That's_ for that atrocity you called a 'dance!'" Clara declared, kicking the last scrap of cloth free of her ankles. She put her boot into his side. "And _that_ is for dragging me out of the _toilet_ and onto your horse!"

Victor allowed himself a panic-tinged laugh. "And _that_ is why we like you. Goodness, you can move fast when you want!"

"I'd _just_ gotten free, and I didn't want to waste time," Clara told him, taking in his condition with a grimace. "We heard Alice scream before, and saw you fall – are you all right?"

Victor eyed the raging fire in the furnace, then the racing landscape beyond the side of the train. "Relatively speaking."

"Hey, that's better than not," Jennifer replied. "When you and Barkis took that tumble, I thought you were both done for." She jerked against her bonds. "Damn it – Clara, how'd you get out? I can't get these things to loosen at _all_!"

"That's because Barkis tied _you_ up – _he_ did me," Clara said, giving Buford a nudge with her foot. "And a rather slapdash job he did of it too."

"Bitch," Buford muttered.

"From you, that's a compliment." Clara bent to undo the rope around Jennifer's ankles. "I can see Emmett's train coming up fast – goodness, it is a wonder," she added, a note of awe creeping into her voice. "To keep pace at these speeds! I assume there's a plan to get us into his locomotive."

"Doc didn't build a nice, solid extending bridge into that thing we can use to just walk across, right?" Jennifer added, nodding at Marty as the Jules Verne train pulled level with them. He waved back, trying to smile.

"I'm afraid not," Victor said, using his free hand to help untie her arms. "Currently, it looks like we have two options – Doc and Marty can try and throw us the rope ladder that they have to get into and out of the train when it's at height, and airlift us to safety. Or–" He held up the Grasshopper Teapot, which paddled the air with its legs. "We use this."

Clara eyed it curiously. "Er – does it grow to a larger size?"

"No, but it's full of a drink that _should_ give whoever consumes it some of the physical properties of a grasshopper." Victor gave it a little shake, listening as the tea sloshed around inside. "Including the ability to jump twenty times their own body length."

Jennifer blinked. "Hold on," she said, standing up (with a slight stumble – Clara caught her arm to steady her). "You want us to drink that and – _jump_ across? Is that – safe?"

"There's nothing about this situation that's safe," Clara pointed out.

"Yeah, but – wouldn't the ladder be _marginally_ safer?"

Clara glanced outside, at the blurred landscape beyond the two trains. "At _these_ speeds? Honestly, I'm not sure."

"I know you can survive clinging to the ladder under the train while it's going at speed," Victor told her, grimacing. "It's how I _got_ to Secundus. But it's _far_ from a fun experience, and I was holding on during a straight rise without much in the way of obstacles to hit. Being lifted next to a speeding train? In _this_ wind?" He nodded at the furnace. "And the chance of the last Presto-Log blowing at any second?"

Jennifer bit her lip. "Point. Okay – I'll give the Teapot a go. Anything that gets me back to my wedding in one piece."

"I'm for it," Clara agreed. "Not how I _wanted_ to try one of your Inventions, but. . . ."

"Me either, Clara." Victor looked over at Buford, who was pulling himself upright. "I _cannot_ believe I'm doing this," he said in a disgusted tone, getting the man's attention. "But despite you attempting to kill not only one of my best friends _and_ both of their girlfriends, I feel I should make you the offer. This would not be a pleasant way to go." He held up the Teapot. "Are you with us?"

"So you can drag me off to Strickland? Or worse, to wherever it is you made that thing?" Buford snorted, shaking his head. "Not in a million years, madboy. Ain't never gonna risk myself for one of _you_ lot." He waved a hand. "I'll find my own way off this train. Ain't the first time, ain't gonna be the last. I'll be laughing when you end up red smears." He shot Clara a dirty look, nursing his groin. " _Especially_ you. You definitely ain't worth eighty dollars."

With that, he turned and clambered (with some difficulty) out of the back of the cab, climbing over to the wood car and inching out of sight along the narrow lip of metal around its edge. "Asshole," Jennifer muttered. "Where does he even think he's going?"

"I don't know – but I tried," Victor said, turning away. "All right, ladies, who wants to–"

_**BOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOMMMM!** _

Victor slammed into what passed for the back corner of the cab, scrambling to both keep a hold of the Grasshopper Teapot and not fall out the open gap just inches away. Jennifer and Clara smacked into each other before ending up as a heap on the floor. Outside the train, the landscape somehow managed to get even _more_ blurred as their train surged ahead, turning the world into little more than red-tinted streaks of color. "Oh damn. . .are you all right?" Victor yelled, getting his balance as the Teapot squirmed desperately in his grasp.

"Ow," Jennifer said, sitting up. "Still in one – _eeek_!"

She ducked and rolled as the furnace door flew open, flames gushing from its mouth. "What the hell?!" she cried, smacking the sparks out of her hair.

 _pist-tang! pist-tang! pist-TANG!_ Tiny black specks soared past them in the sea of red smoke. Clara crawled to the front and risked a look. "The boiler's bursting all its rivets!" she reported. "Did that last Presto-Log you were talking about fire?"

"Yup – and Doc said that one would be more or less the end of the train." Victor eased his way over to the side and took a peek. "It was hard to see anything through the blood-colored haze, but there was a dark shape pulling up beside them rapidly, resolving itself slowly but surely into the familiar finned visage of the Jules Verne train. "Fortunately he's not far behind." He whipped the Grasshopper Teapot around and took a hefty drink from its spout, then thrust it at Jennifer. "Here!"

"Got it!" Jennifer tipped the wiggling creature up, letting the green tea flow down her throat, then passed it to Clara, who did the same. "So how long does this take to – ooh. . . ."

She grabbed her stomach with a heavy groan. Victor opened his mouth to ask if she was all right, only to have the words cut off by a moan as his own stomach suddenly twisted up. He braced himself against the wall as the unsettled feeling spread through his body, changing to a strange, tingling warmth as it did. His legs burned with a new, powerful tightness, as his forehead stretched and – extended? He reached up and felt two growing nubs that – oh, dear, yes, those were _definitely_ antennae. And his hand was a shocking shade of green, just a bit darker than Richard's skin. "Ah," he mumbled, biting his lip. "I – I guess if we want a grasshopper's jumping power, we have to take a few other bits as well."

"At least we know it worked," Clara said, examining her own green skin through eyes black as pitch. "You, ah, sound like it wasn't supposed to do this."

"It's – well – t-this is my first time actually _testing_ it," Victor confessed with a sheepish wince. "I m-mean, by all my calculations, it's _supposed_ to wear off in h-half an hour, but if it doesn't, I-I promise–"

" _You_ were the first to drink the stuff," Jennifer cut him off. "I trust you when you say you'll fix it."

"Hey!"

The three looked up to see Marty waving at them from the door of the Jules Verne train. "Doc says we're almost on top of Shonash Ravine!" he screamed over the wind. "If you're jumping, you gotta do it–"

 _CRUNCH!_ Bits of wood abruptly sprayed past them, forcing Marty to fling himself backward for cover. Victor thought he saw what looked like half a sign reading "ENDS MILE" disappear under the wheels. "Understood!" he yelled back, before waving to Jennifer and Clara. "Who wants to go first?"

To his surprise, it was Jennifer who took the lead, charging at the open gap with her skirt hitched up over her boots. Her leap was wobbly, but it did the job, taking her straight into the train – and into Marty, throwing them both to the floor. He didn't seem to mind though, wrapping her in a tight hug. Clara handed the Teapot back to Victor, took a deep breath, then made her own leap. She landed with somewhat more grace than Jennifer, but still gratefully accepted a hand from Christopher and Victoria to stay upright. _Good – works as advertised,_ Victor thought, gritting his teeth. He squeezed the Teapot against his chest. _Here's hoping our luck holds._ He sprinted for the door, then _sprang_.

For one terrifying split-second, he thought he'd jumped _too_ well, the wind ready to tear him straight _over_ Doc's train and into the desert beyond. Then the doorway rushed up to meet him, and he fell inside, rolling end over end until he ended up upside-down against the far wall. "I g-guess that works," he panted. "Hi."

Alice was on him in an instant, dragging him to his feet and into her arms. "You _cannot_ scare me like that," she growled into his chest. "Not if you want this baby to come out on time." She sniffled as said infant kicked him through her stomach. "I just – I saw you fall, and then. . .and then you insisted on – and I c-couldn't stop thinking about – what if it didn't work, what if you – you couldn't get off in time. . . ."

"I'm sorry," Victor whispered, releasing the poor abused Teapot to return her embrace. It promptly skittered back under the nearest seat to sulk. "I didn't – I didn't want any of that to happen. But it's okay. I got off. We all got off. I'm right here."

"So you are." Alice composed herself with a deep breath, then looked up at his green face. "With a few extra parts, no less." She reached up to stroke an antenna. "How long is this supposed to last again?"

"If it goes over thirty minutes, then we worry," Victor told her, biting the inside of his cheek to keep from giggling. He hadn't counted on those being so sensitive! "Then again, I'd rather look like _this_ for the rest of my life than force you to find a Reanimator good enough to resurrect someone from a train crash."

"Same," Jennifer agreed as she and Marty got up. She took another look at her hand. "Though, obviously, I still hope it wears off. . .hey, uh, anyone see what happened to Buford when that log blew?"

There was a train-wide wince. "He – fell off," Emily said, twisting her skirt in her hands.

"We didn't get a good look, and I'm quite grateful for that," Victoria added, shuddering. "I don't think you'll ever have to worry about him ever again."

"Ugh – part of me is horrified, part of me is 'good riddance to bad rubbish,'" Clara confessed, accepting a hug from Doc. "I guess he should have taken your offer, Victor."

"His loss," Victor said softly. He glanced back at the miles of track behind them. "Now I'm wondering what shape _Barkis_ is in. We were already up to the second log by the time he took _his_ leave."

"We're going to find out," Doc said, carefully easing up on their speed as he brought the train back skyward. "I'm not going back to Hill Valley until we've tracked him down. If he's dead, well, fine. If not, then–"

**CRRUUUUUNCH!**

Everyone jumped, then hurried over to the door to find the source of the noise. Beneath them, the out-of-control locomotive plowed through another pile of wood, flames gushing from its smokestack. Moments later, it sailed off the end of the track, executing a strangely magnificent dive into Shonash Ravine. As it smashed into the rocks below, the boiler finally gave up the ghost, exploding into a massive cloud of red-tinted smoke and steam. A couple of smaller explosions followed, bits of metal and wood flying everywhere. "Well," Richard said, eyes wide. "Can't deny it makes a statement."

"Golly," Clara breathed.

"Yeah," Jennifer nodded, clinging to Marty. "Can you imagine what would have happened if the engineers hadn't gotten the passenger cars unhooked?"

"Yeah, and I don't like it." Marty stared at the dissipating smoke cloud, and the mangled remains of the train beneath. "Hey, Doc?"

"Yes, Marty?" Doc asked, leaning against the controls.

"I think we're moving back to Secundus."

"Yes, I think we are too."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, the chapter title is from the Ozzy Osbourne song -- look, I know of it FROM a fan-made BTTF III music video someone did on YouTube! And it's even more appropriate when it involves Touched!


	12. All Over But The (Mayor's) Crying

September 7th, 1882

Hill Valley, California

8:52 A.M.

Victor would give Barkis this much, he decided, as he and his friends descended upon the pathetic figure below them – the man could pull some absolutely amazing facial expressions. For example, the one he was sporting right now, as he looked up and realized there was a flying steam train full of angry people hovering above him. To his credit, he didn't gawk for long, nor try to run – not that he really could. From the way everyone's favorite so-called lord was limping along, his right leg was just about useless. Instead, he hobbled over to a nearby rock and flopped against it as the train lowered itself beside him. "Well, well," he greeted them, doing his best to smirk – which was difficult when the right side of your face was scraped almost completely off. "I heard the explosion. Go ahead – claim your vengeance. I still destroyed that which you most love."

Doc opened the door, showing Clara, Jennifer, and Victor standing front and center. "Yeah, about that," Jennifer greeted him, arms folded. "Didn't go so well."

Barkis's prodigious jaw practically unhinged itself. "What – how – what _happened_ to you three?" he demanded, eyes flicking to each in turn.

Victor allowed himself a very _Touched_ smile. "First rule of fighting a Touched – never, _ever_ assume they don't have a useful Invention somewhere on-hand."

"So sorry to ruin your plans," Clara added. To Victor's relief, he could see the effects of the tea beginning to wear off – her antennae were noticeably smaller, and her irises once again visible. Though the brown-on-black made her glare all the more unnerving in his eyes, honestly. "We know you spent all of five minutes on them."

Barkis huffed. "I was working under less than ideal conditions. . .at _least_ tell me that worthless Tannen went over the edge."

"Not _that_ edge, but he did go over _an_ edge," Richard informed him. " _Very_ dead."

"Just like you're gonna be," Marty added, stepping forward with his gun drawn.

Victor caught his arm. "In a few days," he qualified. "We're taking you to Marshall Strickland. To face proper justice. Without any chance of you squirming out of it this time."

Barkis blinked. "Marshall. . .you're taking me to _jail_?"

"Yes – it's that place where they put people who have done something wrong," Emily snapped. "Like steal a train. Or take hostages. Or stab an unsuspecting woman in the chest."

"I know what one _is_ , just – why bother?" Barkis shrugged his left shoulder. "I'm not some naive maiden. I understand quite well what punishment my crimes will get me. And that I'm not due another chance at life in _this_ backwards part of the country." He frowned at Victor, jaundiced eyes puzzled. "And I know you all _want_ me dead – you almost certainly most of all, Van Dort. Why not just end me now and be done with it?"

Oh, he wanted to. He so, _so_ wanted to. The darkness inside of him was writhing, screaming at him to grab Marty's gun and put the bullet in his brain, leap out of the train and dash his head against the rock, tie him tight and cut him apart bit by bit by _bit_ for threatening what was his, for hurting those he loved, for making _his_ world one of hate and fear. . .it would be so _easy_ , just like the spiders, and no one would look at it and call it anything but justice. . . .

Except him. He took a deep breath, forcing the anger under his control, banishing the hissing, snarling voice back to the abyss where it usually lurked. "Because I won't let you drag me down," he said, steadying himself with Alice's hand in his. "Or, maybe, I won't let _me_ drag me down. After meeting Gordon in the Palace Saloon, I spent most of this trip terrified of my own temper. Worrying about the kind of person I am behind closed doors. No more." He pressed a finger to the bridge of his nose. "I know I can rant and rave with the best of them. I know sometimes I want to hurt people. I can look frightening, upsetting, _monstrous_. But I won't actually _be_ a monster."

Alice squeezed his hand. "You never were," she told him softly.

"And I'm not going to start now." He looked Barkis in the eyes. "I let Marshall Strickland take Gordon away after he attacked my wife. I offered Buford, who nearly _murdered_ one of my best friends in cold blood, a chance to escape with us. I can extend the courtesy of a trial to you."

Barkis smirked, clutching his arm. "I'll just tell everyone you _are_ a monster, you know. I'll spread the story of the Queen, and my own terrible death. How everything that happened today is your fault. Everyone here will hate you." He chuckled. "You might even end up on the gallows before I do."

"If anyone in Hill Valley has even a _lick_ of sense, they'll see through your bullshit," Alice snapped. "And if they don't – we're leaving tomorrow anyway." She pulled out her knife, knuckles white around the handle. "And _I_ don't have the same compunction against killing you that Victor has. I'll hold off now for his sake, but if you try to take my husband away from me again, you'll see what a monster _I_ am."

"Ditto, asshole," Marty agreed, before glancing at Victor. "You're _sure_ you don't want one of us to just get this over with?"

"I suppose I can't stop you," Victor admitted. "Everyone here has reason enough to want him dead, and I don't want to dictate _your_ actions. I just – I think I'd feel better if we went through proper channels. I know Strickland probably would too." He turned back to Barkis. "But you're not getting under my skin again. I've learned self-control. If you die today, it won't be because I lost myself."

Barkis rolled his eyes. "Excellent speech, Van Dort," he said, slowly clapping. "And you're right – you won't die today because you lost yourself." He yanked a knife from his pocket and lurched forward with surprising speed. "You'll die because I put you in the ground!"

_Boing!_ Jennifer jumped out of the train, landing right in front of the startled Barkis. "Nope," she said simply, before kicking him solidly between the legs. Barkis squealed like a stuck pig and fell over. "Honestly. Trying that. In _your_ state. Outnumbered ten to one. With _two people_ saying they'd like to just kill you."

"Say what you will about him, but he's never lacked confidence," Emily commented, folding her arms. "For what it's worth, though, I'd actually like to see him brought before a judge too. And as the one person in the group he _successfully_ murdered. . . ."

"And Victor's right – we've probably tried Strickland's patience enough today," Doc agreed. "And Mayor Gillin's – if we went full vigilante, as tempting as it is, we'd be on the spit."

"Fine," Marty said, holstering his gun with a sigh. "Where do we put him, Doc?"

"I think just tied to one of the seats would be fine," Doc said, as Richard and Christopher joined Jennifer with a length of rope to collect the captive. "I don't think he's going to be running much in that condition."

"Mmmm," Alice hummed, stowing away her blade. She rubbed Victor's back as Barkis was trussed up. "Finally conquered your fears of not being a good father, then?"

"I don't know if I'd go _that_ far," Victor said, leaning against her with a smile. "But at least I'm not so worried about being a bad father because I'm a Touched anymore." He shook his head. "And all it took was a week of being harassed and a near-death experience. Aren't you glad you married me?"

Alice pulled him into a firm kiss. "Every day," she informed him quietly. "And you are going to be an _excellent_ father."

"Damn straight," Marty agreed as Barkis was brought inside – squirming, but Victor suspected it was more for the sake of his pride than any actual thoughts of escape. "You are gonna have some stories to tell that kid, that's for sure."

"I am, aren't I?" Victor patted Alice's belly. A little foot met his hand, as if the baby was as happy to have him back as Alice herself. "I'm just glad I'll be there to tell them."

Alice nodded, squeezing him against her side. "I swear, if you'd died there. . . ."

"If he had, I would have gone straight back into refining this vehicle into a time machine and shoved the mayor's precious hat up his behind if he tried to stop me," Doc declared, closing the doors and bringing the train back up again. "You have to be cautious with the space-time continuum – but my best friend's life is always going to be more important."

"Thanks, Doc," Victor said, pressing a hand against his heart. "Though all things considered, I'm glad you don't have to risk a paradox for me."

"Me too." Doc sighed as they resumed their chug back toward Hill Valley. "All right – is everyone ready to face the music?"

"If Mayor Gillin yells at us all musically, it'll be a much more pleasant experience," Christopher commented, securing Barkis to the seat. "As it stands, I don't care so much about _his_ reaction as about everyone else's. I'm sure the McFlys and Mr. Parker are worried sick."

"Yeah, Dad's probably out of his mind by now," Jennifer said, wringing her hands. She looked down at her still-pale-green skin. "And, uh, I don't think this is going to help. Even if it does wear off." She grimaced at Marty. "I really hope he doesn't retract his blessing."

"Me either," Marty said, taking her hands in his. "I've been looking forward to today for too long." He glanced down at her soiled white gown, smiling. "You were right – it's a heck of a dress, Jen."

Jennifer weakly smiled back. "Thanks. Not how I _wanted_ you to see it, but. . . ."

"Lovebirds," Barkis muttered. His eyes flicked to Alice's belly. "And I still can't believe _you two_ managed to procreate."

Emily jabbed a wad of cloth in his mouth. "We've had enough out of you." She turned to Clara, who was glued to a nearby window. "How are you holding up?"

"Just fine," Clara assured her, beaming down at the ground below. "Oh, this is absolutely _amazing_! How can Mayor Gillin think _this_ is an awful Invention?"

"Some people just don't believe Touched can make _anything_ that's actually good," Christopher told her. "My in-laws are a prime example. They initially refused my suit in favor of Barkis solely because I am a Touched, regardless of the fact that I'm also a knight held quite high in Her Majesty's esteem. It took Barkis being outed as a murderer and me very publicly saving their daughter's life before they'd even tolerate my presence."

"And my parents – they don't even speak to me anymore," Victor added. "My going Creative was – t-too much for them to bear." He cast an anxious glance Marty's way. "You – your folks – they wouldn't–"

"I wanna say no, but. . . ." Marty bit his lip, shifting from foot to foot. "They've always been super-supportive, even after the Incident. But – I dunno. Can't say I've never worried about something tippin' them over the edge. . . ."

"Well, we're going to find out soon," Doc said, his own voice tight with anxiety. "There's the train station."

"And Mayor Gillin," Richard added, looking over his head. "Who looks about ready to shoot into the sky so he needn't wait another second to scream at us."

"I think he'd like to shoot us _out_ of the sky, if he had his choice," Alice remarked. "Brace yourselves, everyone – this is unlikely to be pleasant. Not that we had any illusions it _would_ be. . . ."

As they neared the station, it became obvious that quite the crowd had turned out to see the flying marvel that was Doc's Jules Verne train. Victor recognized most of Marty's family waiting near the front, along with Mr. Parker, Marshall Strickland, and the incandescent Mayor Gillin. Doc gave the assembled crowd a wave, then carefully brought the train down onto the tracks with a _whoosh_ and a _screeech_ as steel met steel. Victor did as his wife had suggested and braced himself as the doors opened, interlacing his fingers with hers. _Oh please, please,_ please _let nobody be armed and willing to use them. . . ._

" _JENNIFER!_ "

Mr. Parker burst from the others, running hell-for-leather at the train. Jennifer hitched up her skirts and met him halfway, flinging herself into his arms. "Oh, Dad. . . ."

"Jennifer! I thought – I thought maybe you'd – oh God." Mr. Parker lifted her straight off the ground, tears running unabashedly down his cheeks. "Oh, I'm _so_ glad you're all right!"

"You call _that_ all right?!" Mayor Gillin demanded, gesturing with a dramatic hand. "Mr. Parker, your daughter is _green_!" His tone shifted, turning ingratiating. "What did those clowns do to you, Miss Parker?"

"Saved my life!" Jennifer shot back at him, glaring. "I'd be at the bottom of Shonash Ravine in a million pieces if Victor hadn't been there with his Grasshopper Tea!"

"It's wearing off, I swear," Victor said, coming down the steps and showing off his own gradually-lightening skin. "And there should be no lasting side effects."

"And even if there is – well, it's better than being dead," Clara said, following him out with a rather possessive arm around Doc's waist. The others trooped out behind her. "Everyone on this train made sure we came back to Hill Valley in one piece." Her eyes flicked back to where Barkis was still tied up. "Well, _almost_ everyone."

"You wouldn't have _needed_ to come back in one piece if _this lot_ hadn't come here and started stirring up chaos!" Gillin yelled, waving his arms above his head. "All because I caved to Master McFly's _demands_ that he be allowed to see his 'friends' on his wedding day!" He stabbed a finger at Marty and Doc respectively. "Oh, I _knew_ you two were bad news! You've been _waiting_ for an incident just like this, haven't you? Waiting for the next moment where you could swoop in with your insane excuse for science and make a mess of my town!" He swept out an arm like Dracula throwing back his cape. "Well, no more! Never again! Marshall Strickland, mark these words – Dr. Emmett L. Brown and Martin S. McFly are hereby _banned_ from Hill Valley and its environs! Exiled! Kicked out! And if they take one _step_ within its bounds, you are to exert the full force of the law against them!"

"No!" Lorraine McFly practically teleported in front of Gillin, face red. "That's ridiculous! You can't just _banish_ my son!"

"I, Mrs. McFly, am the _mayor_!" Gillin shot back. "I can banish whoever I damn well please! And for lesser crimes than this!"

" _Crimes_?! Marty–"

"Mom, it's okay," Marty cut in, holding up a hand. "Doc and I – we already knew this was coming. And – we've decided we're moving back to Secundus."

"What?" This was from Sylvia, staring at them from beside Artie. "You guys – you're headin' back across the pond?"

"It's what's best for everyone," Doc told her. "The average person on the streets doesn't want us here. And the lifestyle offered by Hill Valley is, sad to say, incompatible with our needs and desires."

"AKA, Doc wants to get back to Inventing, and I want to be able to help without getting the back of my head burned off," Marty translated, shooting a look at Gillin. The mayor glowered back. "Plus it's where all our friends live, and – and – it's just. . . ." He looked apologetically from his mother to his father. "Don't kill me, but – it's _home_. It's – where I think I belong."

There was a brief silence, in which Lorraine and George shared a look, and Victor held his breath, wondering if the word " _fixed_ " was about to be bandied about. "Told you it was coming," George finally said, walking up to his wife and putting his arm around her shoulders. "Honestly, I'm surprised you and Doc lasted this long, Marty. The way you talk about Secundus – the sights, the sounds, the people. . . ."

"The way it took you months to remember that weirdo butterfly boy over there didn't come over with you," Linda put in with a small smile.

"Linda – anyway, it was pretty obvious _that's_ where you wanted to be," George finished up.

"Neither you nor Doc have been quite yourselves ever since you came back," Lorraine confirmed, straightening her hat. With a glance at Gillin, she added, "And I know not everyone gave you a warm welcome. Like your father said – we figured it was just a matter of time before you threw in the towel."

"Good – then we're all in agreement," Gillin snapped, folding his arms. "They can leave right now. Since they have such _obvious_ transportation."

"Oh no – you do _not_ get to kick them out with just the clothes on their back," Lorraine said, rounding on the mayor again. "My son is getting married today come hell or high water!"

"We didn't pay fifty bucks for this dress for me not to use it," Jennifer agreed, wiggling out of her father's grip. "And since I'm definitely going _with_ Marty this time, I think it's better if we're married before I leave."

"Same here."

Everyone's heads snapped toward Clara. "Ah – uh – what?" Doc said, eyes wide.

"You – but – I – you can't – you're our schoolteacher!" Gillin babbled, dropping his arms in shock.

"Not really – I haven't even worked a day," Clara replied, eyebrows low and lips thin. "And let's face it, Mayor Gillin – everyone's seen me keeping close company with Dr. Brown at this point. I've probably sullied my reputation in town beyond repair, consorting so often with the local Touched. You'll probably be getting complaints soon enough that anyone so involved with a 'madboy' shouldn't be teaching children." A few people in the crowd shrunk down, whispering awkwardly to each other. "And, frankly, given you seemed more concerned with making sure I didn't mix with Emmett rather than actually helping me settle into my new home and job, I'm not sure I want to work for you anyway."

Gilen gaped, at a loss for words. Clara dismissed him with a flick of her wrist, then turned to Doc, expression softening into a smile. "Emmett – that's twice you've saved my life now. And beyond that, no man has _ever_ made me feel the same way you do. With you, I feel that – that it's all right that I'm so interested in science, both mundane and mad. That it's all right that I enjoy books, adventure, and books about adventure. That I speak my mind and don't care overmuch for convention. Every other potential suitor I've met either got bored of me before the courtship could go anywhere, or tried to mold me into being the kind of woman _they_ want. You – you just let me be myself." She took his hands. "I love you, Emmett. I know we haven't known each other very long, but it's the truth. I love you, and I don't care who knows it, or what we have to do to be together. I want to share in all your adventures, all your dreams for a better, more interesting world. I want to stay with you for the rest of my life." She grinned. "If only because doing so seems to guarantee that I'll _have_ a rest of my life."

Doc snorted. "Yes, well, one _could_ argue that your life being in danger so often only started when you met me. But. . . .well." He put his hand over hers, eyes sparkling. "Clara, I feel the same. You make me feel like no other woman has. Neither of my previous girlfriends were ever so accepting of me being – me. Of the madness that is such a core part of my being. Certainly neither of them were so _excited_ by my Inventions! You make me want to strive for new breakthroughs, press on further through the bounds of science than ever before! I want to take you all around the world, show you all the wonders I possibly can! I want you – I want you just to _be_ there. Because – everything's brighter with you there. You make me feel just like I did when I first read _Twenty Thousand Leagues Under The Sea_ – like I was a boy again, ready to take on the world. Not to mention, my friends have been hinting – if you can call it that – that we should get married sooner rather than later, despite the fact that we've only known each other for about a week." He shook his head as Victoria and Emily giggled in the background. "I'll just have to put up with the teasing, I suppose. Because I would be honored to be your husband."

Gillin looked between them, gobsmacked. "But – you – we – _fine!_ " he finally came out with, glaring with his hands clenched into fists by his side. "Throw away a good job, Miss Clayton! We can always hire someone else! And you can get married somewhere else too! Warwick, you don't want this lot in your church, right?"

"Ah. . .I. . .as an agent of the Lord, I am required to extend kindness to everyone," Warwick non-answered, clutching his Bible to his chest.

"Oh come off it, Warwick, you can speak–"

"Hubert." Seamus came up to the mayor, touching his shoulder. "Look, I don't want to undermine your authority here. But I don't want you to just throw my grandson out without giving him a chance to get his affairs in order either. You gave him that much after the, ah, _Incident_. Why can't you do the same now?"

"Because, despite all my best efforts, there has _been_ another Incident!" Gillin replied, shrugging Seamus's hand off. "What if this news makes it to San Francisco or Los Angeles? With these two still here? We'd be laughingstocks at _best_!"

"Laughingstocks?" Strickland shook his head. "Begging your pardon, Mayor Gillin, but – regardless of how they pulled it off, Dr. Brown and Master McFly and all their friends just saved two lives. If word gets out – yes, perhaps people will get a little nervous about visiting. But I think that'll be because of our problem with ne'er-do-wells, not the Touched. I certainly don't think we're going to have any mobs storming the town square."

"They're heroes, Hubert!" Seamus nodded. "I don't think anyone here would say different, even if they don't like Dr. Brown personally. How do you think it would look if we threw them out the same day they saved those two little girls?"

"Speaking as the father of the bride, who paid quite a lot to see her get wed to the man she loves – _my_ little girl gets married _today_ ," Mr. Parker spoke up, one arm around Jennifer. "Throw me into jail as a public nuisance if you must – I _will_ make it happen."

Gillin's jaw was going to dislocate if it kept nearly hitting the ground like that, Victor thought. "Mr. Parker! You can't possibly actually _want_ your daughter to–"

"Mayor Gillin, with all due respect, not everyone hates Marty McFly and Dr. Brown as much as you do," Mr. Parker cut in. "And secondly, Marty and Jennifer have had eyes for no one but each other for _years_ now. Ban them from the church here, and they'll probably take that train and go to the next one available – and you can be sure they'll let the pastor _there_ know why they had to come on such short notice."

Jennifer grinned. "Knew you were smart, Dad."

"Your choice, Mayor," Doc said, leaning against the side of his train. "Either you give us a bit of time to leave quietly, or you make us leave now, with enough fuss that this story will get out before the day's done."

Gillin sputtered for a moment, then scanned the people around him. No one met his eye, preferring to look at their feet or glance anxiously at the train. He pinched his nose with a heavy sigh. "Fine. _Fine_ ," he grumbled. "You get a week. One week to get married, settle debts, pack up your things. Then you get out of my town and _don't come back_. Acceptable?"

"Works for me," Marty said with a nod. "Doc?"

"A week should be sufficient time," Doc agreed, glancing at Clara. "If you're willing to help us with a special license."

"If it makes sure you leave on time, I will move heaven and earth with a lever," Gillin replied, apparently unaware of the irony. His gaze snapped on Victor, Alice, and the others. "And you lot – I know you're probably all going to be traveling back together, so just stay on the McFly farm. I don't want to see you in town unless it's absolutely necessary."

"Understood, sir," Victor said. "Thank you."

"Thank _them_ ," Gillin replied, jerking his thumb toward the assembled McFlys, Strickland, and Mr. Parker. "Now, at the very least, can you get that damned train off my tracks?"

"One moment more, Mayor Gillin – we have a package for your Marshall," Christopher said.

"Ah, yes!" Richard disappeared back inside the train, and reappeared with Barkis thrown over his shoulder like a lamb being taken away for his first shearing. "Your hijacker, good sir! At least, the one who survived the experience."

Strickland blinked as Barkis was dumped at his feet. "The one that – you're saying Tannen's _dead_?"

Barkis spat out his gag. "Van Dort there kicked him off the train! Good riddance, in my opinion, but still!"

Whispers rippled through the crowed. "He did _not_ ," Jennifer said with force. "Victor actually offered to _help_ him escape! But he refused and tried to get off himself."

"And then ended up under the wheels," Victoria added, shuddering. "But yes, don't listen a word that man says – he lies as easily as breathing."

"Certainly more inclined to believe you than him," Strickland said, making a face. "Well – fitting end for him, I suppose. And I've got a fitting end for _you_ waiting back at the station," he added to Barkis, dropping back into his natural lawmaker's scowl. "And a nice cozy cell – Mr. Barkis, was it?"

" _Lord_ Barkis Bittern," Barkis said, lifting his chin with as much dignity as he could muster. "And I request that my accommodations be as far from Mr. Gordon Tannen as possible."

"Oooh, see, about that," Strickland said, hauling him to his feet and pulling him back toward town. "I've only got the _one_ cell free. . . ."

Jennifer stuck out her tongue at Barkis's departing back, then looked around. "So – um – twenty minutes, everyone? Just so we can all get cleaned up?" She glanced at her arm. "And back to our normal skin colors?"

"I think that's a good idea," Mr. Parker agreed. He took her hand and held it up. "I suppose I should be grateful the side effects weren't worse."

"Oh, there was antennae and everything for a while," Richard informed him. "But Victor's a good Touched – if anything _had_ stuck, you can trust that he'd fix it."

"Especially since I took some myself," Victor said, smiling. "And I don't think any of us would mind a few minutes to get ourselves sorted."

"Me either," Seamus nodded. He clapped his hands. "All right, everyone, let's head on back to the church! We'll be having the ceremony in twenty, just like Miss Parker said!"

"Yes, you will," Mayor Gillin said, arms folded again. "And then, you, Dr. Brown, and you, Miss Clayton, will come and see me, and we'll get the license sorted. I want you married and gone by next Monday."

"We want that too," Clara said, matching his glare. Looking behind her, she added, "I suppose we should move the train now."

"Yes, don't want him to have a conniption," Doc said with a quick nod at Gillin. "Behind the clock tower should do for now. It'll be relatively out of sight and close to my lab and the church. . .anybody want a lift?"

"I'm not ready to give up my daughter yet," Mr. Parker said, taking Jennifer's arm.

"Yeah, I want to stay with Dad for now too," Jennifer admitted. "I'll see you in a few!"

"Yeah, see you in twenty!" Marty said, hurrying back up the steps. "And don't worry about the dress – it still looks awesome!"

"Flatterer!"

"I know I'll take a free ride," Emily said, brushing her skirts. "And maybe a stop by your place for some of that fabric-cleaning solution. Ugh, I want a full two-hour bath after getting caught in all that smoke and soot. . . ."

"I'm almost ready to brave the public bathhouse," Victoria confessed, swiping at her sleeves. "If they offer curtains."

"No harm in asking?" Alice said with a shrug. "Though given the time frame, I think we're all better off with a quick jaunt through the sky and Doc's miraculous solution."

"I'm all for seeing another one of your Inventions," Clara agreed, face bright.

Doc grinned back at her. "I'm going to show you them _all_ , once we get the chance."

Alice chuckled and leaned up against Victor as everyone got settled back inside the locomotive. "All's well that ends well, I suppose," she murmured. "And here's you thinking this would be a quiet trip."

"I know," Victor replied, shaking his head as they took to the air. "I should have expected everything to go completely topsy-turvy. It's how our lives _work_."

Alice smirked at him. "Well, what's life without a little adventure?"

"Peaceful," Victor retorted. "And that was not a _little_ adventure by any stretch." He rested his cheek against her hair. "I don't know about you, Mrs. Van Dort, but I am all adventured out."

"I can't say I blame you. But it's all over but the crying now. And figuring out how to give Flint notice we're coming home a bit late." She took his hand and pressed it against her middle. "And then, preparing for what happens when November rolls around."

Victor smiled as the little foot thudded against his palm. "Well, I think I'm doing a lot better on that front, at least." He leaned down and kissed her. "This will be the only adventure I want for a _long_ time."


	13. Next Great Adventure

November 5th, 1882

Secundus, England

3:45 P.M.

"H-how long has it been now?"

"Let's see. . . ." Doc consulted his pocket watch, holding up one finger. "Six hours, twenty-eight minutes, and thirty- _two_ seconds precisely. Though, admittedly, it ticked over to thirty-four seconds by the end of 'precisely.'"

Victor smiled despite himself. "Only you would think to add that."

"Well, how else am I supposed to keep up my reputation as a man obsessed with time and all the various mysteries thereof?" Doc said, leaning on his knees. "Plus, I figured being ludicrously exact might keep a certain friend of mine distracted from other matters."

Victor's eyes flicked toward the door in the side wall, separating what was _technically_ Alice's bedroom (and was factually theirs) from what was _technically_ his bedroom (and was factually just a sort of second study). "I'm afraid t-there's not much that can distract me now, Doc." He worried his lip with his teeth, tapping his fingers on his leg. "You're absolutely _certain_ I can't go in there?"

"It's just not done, Victor," Victoria said, regret clear in her voice. "It's women's business. And doctors'."

"Dr. Lawn was very clear that you were to stay in here and wait," Richard added. "Probably worried you'll get underfoot. Though how you'd manage that when you've got half a foot on him is beyond me."

"Trust me, knowing my luck? I'd find a way." Victor resumed his steady pacing across the rug, spinning around as he reached the edge. Funny to think the damn thing had been practically pristine for two years, and now he was likely to wear a hole in it in the space of an afternoon. Lightning bounded along beside him, unsure why his master was so restless but happy to join in the activity. "Still. . .I know I wouldn't be much help, but – I'm her husband! I'm the father! Why shouldn't I be allowed a spot in that room?"

"Dr. Lawn seems to have things well in hand," Clara said, crossing the room to take his elbow and steer him to a chair. "Come, sit down. You're going to exhaust yourself if you keep that up."

"Yeah, I haven't seen you this worked up since – cripes, since you first _came_ to Secundus," Marty agreed from his spot on the bed. "Feels like a whole other lifetime ago, doesn't it?"

"It really was," Victor nodded, recalling that first shock of being lifted into the air by the train's rope ladder, digging his fingers into the dirt before being ripped free of everything he'd ever known. He twisted his hands together, resisting Clara's attempts to seat him. "The me I was then wouldn't recognize the me I am now."

"I don't know about that," Christopher said with a small smile. "Right now, you don't seem to have changed a bit." He leaned forward, face shifting to serious. "She's going to be fine, Victor. Alice has pulled through a _lot_ worse."

"Mmm – childbirth can't have anything on ten years in an asylum," Richard agreed, hat bouncing with the force of his nod. "Or surviving a house fire by the skin of your teeth because the rest of it got scorched off."

"I _know_ she's tough," Victor said, finally collapsing into the chair. Lightning promptly hopped into his lap and rolled over, whining for belly rubs. "And I know Dr. Lawn is one of the best in the business. That's why we _chose_ him. It's just. . . ." He looked at the floor, idly stroking his corgi. "You k-know how I get, s-sometimes. How I – w-worry about her."

Lightning licked his hand, tail vibrating against his thigh. "It's fine," Clara assured him, patting his head. "Any husband would be worried half to death about his wife right now. I expect Emmett would be in an absolute tizzy if I were in there having the baby."

Doc laughed. "Clara, I'd be in a tizzy if you told me you were _pregnant_! I'm still coming to grips with being a _husband_ , much less a father!"

"Well, I'm sure you're doing a better job than Mr. 'The Floor Is Where The Towels Go' here," Jennifer informed him, giving Marty a nudge.

"I try to remember, Jen, I swear," Marty said, holding up a hand in defense. "I'm just used to someone else grabbing them!"

"Do whatever you can to break him of that habit, Jennifer," Doc said, looking her dead in the eye. "It drove _me_ around the bend too."

"Same," Victor echoed, rolling his eyes as he remembered countless times stepping onto wet cloth on the bathroom floor.

"Hey, hey – _who_ is it who constantly leaves his tools lying around all over the place when he's in the middle of a project?" Marty retorted, pointing at Doc. The finger shifted to Victor. "And the one who drifts off into his own head whenever he gets a new idea for some music or a butterfly?"

"You do that too!"

"And there's _no_ getting Emmett's attention when he's got a new idea," Clara put in, earning herself a wounded look from Doc. "I think that's just a common affliction among Touched and their friends."

"It is," Emily confirmed, ignoring Richard frowning at her. "You should see Richard when he's designing a new hat. The police could raid the shop and he'd never notice."

"Christopher's the exact same way when it comes to anything mechanical," Victoria admitted. "I've taken to throwing pillows at him if I need to get his attention."

"I'm just glad you haven't upgraded to rocks," Christopher said, shaking his head.

Victor chuckled despite himself. "Oh dear. . .well, I'm sure Alice has plenty of similar complaints about me. I know I can be–"

" _Unnngggh. . . ._ "

Victor leapt from his seat, displacing a startled Lightning with a "yip!" "Alice?!" he started, making for the door.

Clara promptly caught him, pushing him back into the chair. "She's _fine_ ," she said firmly. "Giving birth to a child is no easy task. You can't jump at every little sound she makes."

"But – but she sounded like she was in pain!" Victor protested, rocking from side to side to look around her.

"Yeah, well, she's trying to shove out a whole baby through a pretty tight spot," Jennifer informed him. She glanced behind her on instinct, then laughed. "Yeesh – two months here, and I'm still expecting Dad to pop up and lecture me on talking like a lady."

"I could take over, if you like?" Victoria offered with a small, surprisingly evil smile. "I learned from the worst."

"Oh jeez, no," Jennifer said, shaking her head even as she smiled. "From what I've heard about your mother, I'd be _incinerated_ if you started going on like her."

Emily snorted. "Oh, definitely. If it makes you feel better, though, my own father was always telling me I was too blunt as well. One of the best perks of Secundus is being able to speak my mind as freely as I like."

"So I've noticed," Clara agreed, face bright. "Though there's a lot more to love about this city. It's as wonderful as I always thought it would be." She clutched her hands above her heart. "Part of me is still astonished that I get to _live_ here now. That I get to see all these marvels up close and personal."

"I've been here two years, and I _still_ have moments like that," Victor said, surrendering to the fact that he wasn't getting free of the chair anytime soon. He picked up a grumpy Lightning, giving him an apologetic scratch behind the ears. "You get used to it for a little while, then something just – _incredible_ happens, and it's like you've just moved here all over again."

"I'm glad I have so much to look forward to, then." Clara reached down and scritched Lightning's head as well, earning a lick and a tail wag for her trouble. "Yes, you're a good boy. . .we ought to look into getting a dog, Emmett. You always look so wistful when you're near Lightning."

"Just remembering old friends from years past," Doc replied, getting up to take his turn at petting the corgi. Lightning rolled over for more belly rubs, panting happily at all the attention. "I thought about it sometimes back in Hill Valley, but I always had to prioritize the horses first. And here in Secundus – well, not only was I not expecting to stay forever, we didn't really have the room."

Clara poked his nose. "Oh, so that shop doesn't have room for a dog, but it _does_ have room for a wife?"

Doc laughed. "You made it pretty clear back in Hill Valley that you weren't going anywhere! Plus you sleep in the same bed I do, instead of taking up the spare room or the couch." He straightened up, taking her hand. "But I suppose now that I'm not playing host to two teenagers, or a married couple, nor worrying about keeping a bunch of horses in oats and shoes. . .not to mention not having to worry about a certain mayor constantly looking over my shoulder and wondering if I'm going to mutate the poor creature. . . ." He glanced up at the ceiling with a contemplative frown. "I wonder how things are back in Hill Valley?"

"Boring, hopefully," Marty said. "I'm due a letter from Mom any day now, so we'll find out soon enough."

"Last letter I got from Dad, he said he was doing all right," Jennifer added. "Everything seems to have quieted down after our two weddings and Barkis getting the noose."

"Yes, _that_ was satisfying," Emily said, folding her arms. " _Very_ good to know he's been put properly in his grave this time."

"Same here," Victor nodded, rubbing circles onto Lightning's belly. "I – I admit, I've had a couple of nightmares about him coming back _again_. Dragging himself back to Secundus for one last shot at revenge. . . ."

"If he tried that, he wouldn't get far," Christopher reassured him. "I'm surprised he got as far as he did in Hill Valley. Not only was he relying on those idiot Tannens to do most of his dirty work, you'd think he'd realize that trying to kill _any_ of us would only result in suffering for him, once we worked out who was responsible. Perhaps his brain was affected by the resurrection process?"

"Either that or he was so used to going after lone brides in the woods he thought he could get away with anything, no matter what," Emily said, rolling her eyes. "I mean, he never stopped trying to kill us the _first_ time we all ran into him, and we see how _that_ ended."

"Good riddance to bad rubbish," was Victoria's opinion on the matter. "I dread to think what my life would have been like as Lady Bittern."

"Short," Richard said succinctly.

"Besides that."

Victor laughed – only to choke on the sound as another, louder groan echoed through the door. He clutched Lightning to his chest, resisting the urge to leap from his chair again. _She's fine she's fine everyone says she's fine. . . ._ "So, um, M-Marty, Jennifer, h-how are you settling into your new flat?" he asked, desperately attempting to keep his mind on conversation.

"It's starting to feel like home," Marty said, twisting his head from side to side. "Sorry, got a crick – ah, there we go." He rubbed his neck. "But yeah, it's nice. I'm just glad that we were able to find a place so quick – and that Mom and Dad's wedding present was enough for the down payment. Cramming four people into those couple of rooms above the shop was tough."

"Tell me about it – I'm impressed you managed sleeping on that couch for so long," Jennifer added, shrugging her shoulders in a way that suggested she was recalling uncomfortable bedtimes from days past. "Especially since you're longer than it is."

"I got used to it – and I had plenty to keep me distracted," Victor said, loosening his grip on Lightning as the corgi squirmed. "Sorry, boy. . .but yes, it was a relief to go back to a normal bed once I got the house!"

"Mmm – you should have let me take the couch a couple of times," Clara told Jennifer. "I wouldn't have minded."

"I would have – you and Doc can both fit into _his_ bed. Marty's. . .well. I'm not sure how he slept so long in _that_ thing either. He's not _that_ small."

"I want that in writing so I can frame it," Marty declared, clapping his hands to a chorus of giggles. "But yeah, like Victor, I just got used to it. Will admit, though, the bigger bed is nicer." He winked and snuggled up to his wife. "And a _lot_ more fun."

Victoria snorted and covered her face with a hand. "Oh my. . .you know, I'm half-expecting us to undergo some sort of baby boom, what with all of us being married now."

"Doing my best, dear," Christopher said with a sly smirk.

"Christopher!"

Victor wanted to laugh at that, he really did. . .but just the thought of babies brought his eyes back toward that door. He shifted in his chair, chewing the inside of his cheek. It was quiet now, past the wood. . .but was that a good sign, or a bad one? Did he dare ask anyone? _She's going to be fine she's going to be fine she's going to be_ fine _. . . ._

"Maybe we should talk about something else," Emily said, frowning as she watched him. "Clara, how goes the job hunt?"

"Not well, sadly," Clara admitted with a sigh. "I very much want to teach again, but there don't seem to be any positions open in the city. And no astronomers looking for assistants, either."

"Why not put yourself out there as a private tutor?" Richard suggested. "I mean, perhaps some rich family or two would like their son or daughter to take stargazing lessons?"

"Or just lessons in general, so their child doesn't have to go to a regular school and mingle with the commoners," Victor put in, managing a smile. "That was Nell's rationale for not sending me off to boarding school, anyway. William's was that he didn't want me eaten alive by bullies."

"There are quite a few of those stalking your average hall of education, yes," Doc said, grimacing. "And not just among the students. But I think that sounds like a great idea. Let the pupils come to you instead of you trying to find them."

"It's worth a shot," Clara agreed. "What do you think would be the best way to advertise?"

"I guess like a governess," Victoria said, tapping her fingers on her knee. "Hmmm. . .maybe 'Mrs. Clara Brown offers her services as an all-around educator to–"

" _AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUUUUUUGGGGHHHH!_ "

Victoria's jaw snapped shut, the scream lopping off her words as effectively as a thousand-degree knife through butter. Victor went stiff in his seat, eyes locked on the door. Oh God. . .the _pain_ in Alice's voice. . .he hadn't heard her scream like that since. . .since. . . .

Very slowly, he lifted Lightning off his lap and put him back on the floor. The corgi whined and pawed at his leg, but he ignored him, rising to his feet with a grace he'd never manage consciously. Doc sprang from his seat on the bed, rushing to Victor's side with worried eyes. "Victor – Victor, listen to me," he said urgently. "Don't do anything rash. Childbirth is _not_ an easy process, and–"

Victor pushed him aside, gently but firmly, and made for the door. Clara tried to catch his arm again, but he dodged easily. "Victor!" Emily started, standing –

But it was too late. Victor reached his goal in two long strides, twisting the knob and throwing open the door before anyone could stop him. The scene beyond was carefully-controlled chaos – the nurse darting here and there, laying cloths on Alice's forehead and delivering water to Dr. Lawn; Dr. Lawn crouched between Alice's legs, delivering admonitions to "push!" as his hands cupped her private parts; and his poor darling wife, sprawled on the bed, sweat pouring off her red face as she gritted her teeth against the pain. The sight of her so disheveled, so obviously in agony, sparked off the cold, dangerous calm suffusing him, transforming it instantly into a raging bonfire. He stormed over to Dr. Lawn, catching the startled man by the shoulder and wrenching him around to look him in the eye. " _What_ ," he demanded, voice rising with growing fury with every syllable, " _is going on he–_ "

And then, quite accidentally, his eyes found what Dr. Lawn had been looking at. What, exactly, was going on there. For a long moment, all he could do was stare.

Then, very abruptly, everything went black.

* * *

". . .which makes Mr. Van Dort here just one of many excellent examples of why I don't usually allow fathers to be present at a birth."

Well, those weren't exactly encouraging words to wake up to. Victor groaned as consciousness reluctantly returned. _What – what happened?_ he thought, one hand seeking out his head. _The last thing I remember, I'd just –_ his entire body shuddered as the images once again invaded his brain. _Actually, no, I'd much prefer_ not _to remember that._

"Victor?" A hand caught his arm as something cold was laid on his forehead. "Are you awake?"

Victor cracked open his eyes to find Victoria at his side, pressing a damp cloth to his head. The rest of his friends hovered nearby in a semi-circle, watching him with varying degrees of concern. "How you feeling, buddy?" Marty asked, leaning over him. "From what I heard, you hit the floor pretty hard."

Victor freed his wrist from Victoria's grip and gingerly touched the back of his head, wincing as his fingertips brushed a decent-sized knot. "I-I've been better."

"I'm sure you have," Dr. Lawn said, appearing next to Victoria. "Fortunately, I'm reasonably certain you didn't manage to give yourself a concussion." He held up his finger, waving it before Victor's face. "Let's be sure of it, though – follow my finger with your eyes. Any double vision?"

Victor did as instructed, risking a tiny shake of his head. "No. . .h-how long was I out?"

"Twelve minutes," Doc informed him, with another consult of his pocket watch. "Give or take thirty seconds."

"We were going to try and wake you earlier," Emily added. "But Dr. Lawn said it would be better to let you come around on your own."

Victor's gaze shifted back to Dr. Lawn's face. "You didn't want me barging in again, did you?" he said with an embarrassed smile.

"No, letting people who have fainted come around on their own instead of forcing them awake is a genuine medical opinion I hold," Dr. Lawn replied, pressing his fingers against Victor's neck. He counted softly to himself, then nodded. "Your being too incapacitated to interrupt again was just a bonus."

Victor flushed. "I'm – I'm sorry," he mumbled, looking away. "I didn't mean to. . .I just. . .she s-screamed, and it was – I was r-running on pure instinct. I couldn't have s-stopped myself if I'd tried. She's the most important person in the _world_ to me, and I – I couldn't just. . . ."

"I understand, Mr. Van Dort," Dr. Lawn assured him, tone softening. "Like I was just telling your friends, you're hardly the first panicked, angry husband I've had to deal with." He chuckled. "Nor the first who fainted when he got a look at what was going on."

Victor shivered. "Yes, well, it was – all of that, all at once, with the – the blood, and – I. . . ." He hid his face in his hands. "Some biologist I am."

"Don't be like that," Doc said. He reached down and picked up a rather anxious-looking Lightning, putting him on Victor's chest. "You're an excellent biologist."

"We wouldn't _be_ here if you weren't," Clara confirmed. "You're a marvel with insects."

"Yes, that's exactly it – _insects_ ," Christopher added, patting his arm. "Which have a completely different reproductive system. No one can blame you for being a little overwhelmed by some of the – messier bits of the mammalian one."

Victor chuckled as Lightning licked his chin. "Yes, but still. . .I, uh, I didn't c-cause any issues?" he asked Dr. Lawn, scooting up slowly to a sitting position. "I know I came in right at the – well. The crux of it all."

"No, no – you collapsed before you could distract me for too long, then Sir Lloyd here darted in, shouted an apology, and dragged you out just in time," Dr. Lawn assured him. "Honestly, your wife found it all rather amusing, until she was distracted by other matters."

A little of the fear trickled back in, pooling in his stomach. "H-how is Alice?" Victor whispered, holding Lighting tight.

"Just fine," Dr. Lawn told him gently. "She came through marvelously."

Victor breathed a deep sigh of relief. "Oh, good. . . ."

"And so did your son."

The breath caught. Victor gaped at Dr. Lawn. "My–"

"Don't tell me you've forgotten _why_ I'm here in the first place," Dr. Lawn said with a teasing grin. "Yes, you have a son. Came into the world a couple of minutes after you left it. Quite healthy too. I _would_ have been worried about his color, except – well, he's _your_ son."

Victor laughed. "Van Dort trait, can't be helped – a son, Lightning!" he declared, holding the corgi up in front of him. "I've got a son!"

Lightning barked, his entire bottom wagging. Doc ruffled Victor's hair. "Congratulations, Victor!"

"Oh, come now, we can do better than that," Richard said, touching his hat brim. A spray of confetti burst out the top, coating the far end of the bed. "Congratulations!"

"Yes – now I can finally give you these!" Christopher added, producing a box from an over-sized pocket. "Though you'll want to put Lightning down – we can't have him getting into these."

Lightning clearly disagreed, wiggling in Victor's grip to try and get a sniff of the present. "Ah ah ah – he said no," Victor said, gently turning his snoot around. "Come on, boy – you need to go see Auntie Victoria now."

Lightning wuffed, but accepted being handed over. Victor gave him an apologetic scratch behind the ears, then wiped his hands on his pants before taking the box and opening it. Before him lay a neat row of – "Oh! Uh, cigars! I – I guess that's traditional. . .thank you," he added, shooting Christopher an awkward smile.

"Don't worry, I haven't taken leave of my senses – they're _chocolate_ ," Christopher explained, laughing. "Wonka brand, in fact! He claims they _can_ be smoked, but I don't think you're going to bother finding out."

"Oh!" Victor picked one up with rather more enthusiasm than before. "Yes, I can think of much better ways to use chocolate than polluting my lungs – I'll try one later." He set the box on the nightstand and looked back at Dr. Lawn. "So – when am I allowed in?"

"Shouldn't be more than a few minutes," Dr. Lawn assured him. "Nurse Ramkin's cleaning both your wife and son up. . .here, let me see how they're doing."

"Thank you." Victor watched as he disappeared back into the other bedroom. "And now my stomach is all knots again. . .good knots, though. I-if that makes any sense."

"Enough," Doc chuckled, patting his shoulder.

"Congrats, Victor," Marty said, Jennifer nodding along. "We're all really happy for you."

"Our first baby in the group!" Emily squealed, bouncing on her heels. "If you ever need a babysitter, just let me know!"

"I'll make him his first hat!" Richard promised. "When his skull hardens up, anyway."

"I'll hold you to that," Victor laughed. He looked around the room, at the plethora of smiling faces surrounding him. "I – I can't begin to tell you all how much I appreciate all of you being here. How much I appreciate all of you in general." He sniffed as a wave of emotion swept over him. "Two years on, and I _still_ can't believe I have such wonderful friends."

"It's like a beautiful dream, isn't it?" Victoria agreed, cuddling Lightning. "I never thought I'd marry into such a wonderful family."

"We're all very lucky," Clara agreed, coming up to Doc and pulling him into a hug. "You have all been so welcoming – I can't imagine I'd have been this happy teaching in Hill Valley."

"Yeah, I couldn't ask for a better set of honorary relatives," Jennifer said, grinning around the room. "No offense to my _actual_ in-laws, of course."

"Hey, none taken," Marty told her. "I'd definitely rank everybody in this room over Linda."

The door opened again, Dr. Lawn poking his head through. "Mr. Van Dort? You can come in now. Officially."

"Thank you." Victor carefully got off the bed – his skull ached, but fortunately that was it. He tugged his shirt straight and ran his fingers through his hair. "All right, everyone – see you in a moment."

"We'll be here," Doc promised. "Now go on, meet your son."

Victor nodded, then proceeded to the door. "Ah – first things first," Dr. Lawn said, directing him to a nearby basin and a bar of soap. "I know some of my colleagues consider it too much fuss, but. . . ."

"I don't mind at all," Victor assured him quietly. "I _was_ just holding my dog." He scrubbed up as best he could, accepting a towel from the doctor once he'd finished. Dr. Lawn nodded approvingly at him, took one last glance at the back of his head, then nodded again and took his leave. Nurse Ramkin followed shortly after, giving him a bright smile. Victor gave her an anxious one back, then steadied himself with a deep breath as the door clicked shut behind her. _All right – take two. Here goes._

He looked up, and saw Alice lying on the bed before him, now tucked under the covers. She was still rather disheveled – hair flyaway, face rather pink – but she seemed much more herself than she had when she'd screamed. And in her arms. . .well. Dr. Lawn hadn't been lying when he'd said the baby was _his_ son. Victor hadn't seen anyone as pale as that who wasn't his reflection in a long time. He lingered by the door, just – marveling at the sight. His son. His wife and his child. His _family_. Who would have thought?

Alice looked up then, registering his presence. Something about her gaze made him feel like an intruder all over again. His hands found his tie almost of their own accord. "They – they t-told me I could c-come in," he blurted, the nerves clawing at his brain.

Alice, fortunately, didn't seem to hold his previous shameful behavior against him, instead just giving him a smile and a nod. "Come meet your new son," she said, beckoning him closer with a jerk of her head.

Victor hesitated a moment, worried he'd somehow make an even bigger fool of himself if he moved – but the desire to see his baby up close won out quickly. Two long strides, and he was at her side. Their son was even more Van Dortish upon a second look, with a tuft of black hair upon his head, and what looked to be a miniature version of Victor's nose. _Very_ miniature, in fact – his baby seemed barely bigger than a fresh loaf of bread. "Goodness, he's – he's so small," he murmured, looking the baby over from head to – well, blanket, but Victor trusted there were toes under it.

"The nurse said so too," Alice said, grimacing. "I can tell you he didn't feel that way coming out."

Victor felt his entire head go bright red. "I – I'm sorry for – i-interrupting like I did," he whispered, pulling at his tie again. "I just – I h-heard you scream, and–"

"It's fine," Alice interrupted him, voice soft and patient. "Trust me, I understand." She bit her lip, concern filling her gaze. "Are you all right? Looked like you hit your head when you–"

"No p-permanent damage," Victor quickly reassured her, shaking his head (and instantly regretting it as his lump throbbed). "At least, according to Dr. Lawn. Just – w-when I saw that, I – you – h-how–"

"Let's not talk about it," Alice cut in, making a face. "It wasn't any more fun from this end, believe me."

Victor happily dropped the subject, turning his attention back to the baby. The little boy was observing him with wide eyes – blue-green eyes, Victor noted. Apparently _one_ bit of Liddell ancestry had snuck through. But all the rest of him – "He's so pale as well," he said, aware he was stating the bloody obvious but unable to help himself. Just – how could a baby who had spent the past nine months inside of Alice come out looking almost exactly like him?

Alice didn't seem bothered by the question, though, instead just giving him a little smile. "A Van Dort through and through," she agreed. "Look, he even has your black hair."

"I noticed." A Van Dort. . .who would almost certainly never know any of the rest of his line. Not that Victor particularly _regretted_ sparing his child the experience of having William and Nell Van Dort as grandparents. After all, they'd done an absolutely bang-up job on _him_ , hadn't they? Given him a childhood of grandiose toys and over-sized mansions and open neglect and cold criticism, before finishing off with an arranged marriage to a total stranger with the sole goal of boosting their own status. He'd have _never_ come into his own if he hadn't been accidentally kidnapped to the Mad Science Capital of the World!

And now here he was, a parent himself. . .with _that_ has his guide. Little fears began picking at his brain, trying to unravel it bit by bit. He – more or less trusted himself as a Touched around his child now. Knew he had enough handle on his temper, his madness, not to threaten his own flesh and blood. But there were so many _other_ ways he could screw this up. And the _last_ thing he wanted was to follow in his parents' footsteps. "I'm still t-terribly nervous," he confessed in a whisper, glancing back up at Alice.

"I'm a little overwhelmed myself," Alice replied, shoulders slumping. "I mean – I'm sure you understand. Being a parent is a big job."

"It is," Victor agreed, tone soft. He laid a hand on her arm. "But I know _you'll_ do wonderfully. You're a slayer of monsters and defeater of bullies. You are the best mother our child could have."

"Eh – I think one who'd managed to avoid bedlam _might_ have been better," Alice said, making a face. "But I'll do the best I can for him. And I know you will as well," she added, voice stronger. "I'm never one to back down from a challenge – and neither are you."

Now _t_ _hat_ was more like her – and, frankly, just what he'd needed to hear. Encouraged, Victor gave her a sly little smile. "He's a challenge now, hmmm?"

"Well, what with him probably going to have us up at all hours of the night, and having to figure out why he's crying, and changing dirty diapers. . . ." Alice smiled at their boy, practically glowing with maternal affection. "But he's _our_ challenge."

Victor reached out and lightly stroked his son's cheek. The baby instantly turned toward his finger, nuzzling it like he wished to nurse. Victor laughed softly, heart lightened. Maybe this wouldn't be so hard after all. "Yes. Ours," he agreed, putting his free arm around her.

"It _would_ be rather rude to pawn him off on someone mere minutes after his birth."

Victor just about fell off the bed. "What the–"

"Cheshire!" Alice frowned around the room, clutching their son a bit tighter to her chest. "When on earth did you get here?"

"Depends on how you define 'here.'" Cheshire's eyes and grin blinked into existence at the foot of the bed. "The city? Why, I was born here years ago, a sleek and slender Cheshire kitten in Looking-Glass House. Your home? A few hours ago, trailing behind Christopher and Victoria. This room? I slipped in with your dear husband." He winked. "The _second_ time he sought entry, mind. Unlike him, I know to _avoid_ screaming women."

Victor huffed, resettling himself next to Alice. "Have you been making life hell for my creations again in the meantime?"

"Oh no – it was much more fun watching you make life hell for yourself," Cheshire assured him, the rest of his body fading into view as he stalked up the bed for a closer look at the baby. "Why, you even managed to make _me_ slightly nervous when you went looking for Alice's scream."

Victor bit his lip as he glanced at the door. "I think I made everyone slightly nervous then. . .why didn't you appear before now, though?"

"You forget that dog of yours was in the same room," Cheshire said, tail twitching. "I didn't think you needed _that_ extra stress."

Victor recalled the last time Lightning and Cheshire had met for a game of chase, and nodded. "Yes, fair enough." He scratched the back of his head. "Well, if you're here already. . .are you up for letting anyone else in?" he asked Alice, looking her up and down. "Or should I tell them to wait?"

"I could stand a short visit," Alice assured him. She gave their son a light bounce. "I want to introduce him to everyone properly."

"So do I." Victor slid off the bed and went over to the door, knocking once before poking his head out. "Dr. Lawn? Can our friends come in for a little bit?"

"Yes, but _only_ for a little bit," Dr. Lawn stressed. "We don't want to overwhelm the infant. And everyone has to wash their hands first. And no dogs," he added with a firm look at Lightning. "Not yet, anyway."

Lightning barked. "The doctor said no," Victor told him. "Cheshire's in here already anyway – we don't need you two causing chaos."

"Cheshire?" Dr. Lawn pushed past Victor for a look. "Oh! You! Before you get a step closer, I demand you wash yourself! With _soap_!"

"Oh dear – I don't think that's going to go well," Victoria remarked. She looked up at Nurse Ramkin. "Would you mind watching him for a moment?"

"Not at all – I have a little fellow like this back home," Nurse Ramkin replied, lifting the corgi from Victoria's arms and raising him toward the ceiling. "I know what stinkers they can be."

Lightning ruffed and licked her face. Victor laughed and opened the door wide. "All right, in this way – the basin where you can wash up is over here – and Cheshire, you _will_ take your turn," he added in a severe voice, turning back to the cat. "If only to stop poor Dr. Lawn having a fit."

"Fine, fine. . . ." Cheshire padded over to the basin, hopped in the soapy water, rolled over, then walked to and fro for a moment before jumping out onto a towel and flicking the suds off his paws. "Satisfied?"

"I suppose it'll do," Dr. Lawn grumbled, as Victor went to help dry Cheshire off. "Give me just a moment to change this water, everyone. . . ."

Once the basin was refilled and resoaped, everyone lined up to give their hands a quick scrub, then filed over to the bed. Emily stifled another squeal behind her fingers as she got her first look at the infant. "Oh, isn't he _darling_! Look how _tiny_ he is!"

"The doctor wasn't kidding when he said he was Victor's son," Richard observed, leaning in for a closer look. The baby made a few anxious noises – Alice rocked him soothingly. "Sorry, sorry. . .did _any_ of you make it into him, Alice?"

"Well, Dr. Lawn thinks he's likely to have green eyes, but that's about it." Alice chuckled. "I'm afraid the Van Dort ancestry cornered mine in a dark alley and beat it to a pulp."

"Because the Dutch are such a warrior race, don't you know," Christopher joked, making Victor roll his eyes. "But he is lovely."

"Yeah, he is – though I gotta admit, I thought he'd be bigger," Jennifer said, with a glance at Victor. "I mean, no offense and all, he's a cute kid, but – I was _sure_ any kid of _yours_ would be tall from minute one."

Victor laughed. "Actually, I was the _shortest_ child in my village until a few months after my fourteenth birthday," he told her, retaking his place by Alice's side. "And after that I had half a year of banging my head on low-hanging objects I'd never needed to duck before. It's a weird quirk in my family – start out small, shoot up tall. That's the Van Dort way."

"Whereas the Liddell one is to stay an annoying middling height for most of your life," Alice playfully grumped. "Though I've always wondered if we can blame the ten inches' difference between us partly on Rutledge and its penchant for old porridge. . .I guess we'll see which path he follows once he hits his growing years."

"Something to look forward to, I guess," Jennifer said, grinning. "Congrats again."

"I don't suppose you'll finally tell us his name?" Clara asked with a schoolteacher's stern smile. "We know that his middle is Emmett, but you've been very cagey on the first."

"Well, we only decided on it recently," Victor explained, sharing a smile with Alice. "But it's Chester. Chester Emmett Van Dort."

"Chester?" Christopher rolled the syllables around on his tongue. "Hmmm – yes, I like it."

"Not bad at all," Richard agreed.

"Chester Van Dort – mmm," Emily hummed with a nod.

"I find it a bit curious," Cheshire commented, sitting on Alice's legs. "I can understand why you would forgo 'William,' but – not 'Henry?' Or perhaps 'Arthur?'"

"Too many memories attached to Papa's name," Alice said, shaking her head. "Also, there was someone else we wanted to honor after everything that happened in Hill Valley. I'm sure Papa would understand if he were here."

"Honor?" Doc repeated, scrunching up his nose. "I'm not sure who you met in Hill Valley named Chester – except the bartender at the Palace, and he was hardly the most influential figure during your time there."

"Well, it's not an _exact_ match," Victor explained, waggling a hand. "Just the closest we can get."

"I believe the male of 'Clara' is 'Clarence,'" Cheshire said, rolling onto his back to grin at them upside-down. "Too on the nose?"

"No – apologies, Clara, we do love you," Alice added, getting a nod in return from her. "I can't believe you haven't figured it out, you mangy old thing. I would have guessed you'd be smugly shoving it in everyone's faces by now."

Cheshire's eyes narrowed. "Perhaps if you put it in the form of a riddle, instead of just assuming everyone's mind works exactly like yours."

"Fine." Alice adjusted her position slightly. "Out of everyone in this room – and I do mean _everyone_ – whose name does 'Chester' sound the most like?"

There was a moment of pondering silence – then Cheshire's eyes went wide as it clicked. "I – you – _me_?" he blurted, flopping onto his side in a flail of paws.

"Yes, you," Victor confirmed, trying not to smile too wide. _Talk about moments you want to frame, Marty! I'll be lording this over him for months._ "You _have_ basically helped save my life twice at this point."

Cheshire shook himself, undulating from the tips of his ears to the tuft of his tail. "As a cat, I know I should just accept the honor and preen, but my curiosity demands satisfaction – twice?"

"You saved me from that corrupted Card Guard in Wonderland Park, and fought by my side until Alice found us," Victor explained. "And you chased the Grasshopper Teapot into my luggage, meaning it was on Doc's train during that whole mess in Hill Valley. If I hadn't had it to help us jump across when the boiler finally blew. . .I mean, w-we could have _tried_ the ladder, but. . . ."

"I don't like to think about it," Clara said, wincing. She gave Cheshire a scratch behind the ears. "I guess we all owe him for that."

"Mmmm," Alice nodded. "So, for ensuring – however accidentally – that this baby exists and has a living father, you get to be the inspiration for his name. We simply had to – humanize it a bit."

Cheshire's grin widened. "I see," he said, sending a purr rumbling up the bed. "Well, I shall confer my gratitude upon you, as is only right. And hope my namesake doesn't find it amusing to pull my tail when he grows older."

Victor laughed. "Don't worry – we won't let him."

_Knock-knock –_ "All right, everyone," Dr. Lawn said, opening the door and holding up his hands. "I hate to cut things short, but that's enough visiting for now. Alice does need some time to rest, and I need someone to pry Sybil from your dog so we can actually perform all the final checkups."

"He's just so cute!" Nurse Ramkin protested from the other room, to a chorus of barks.

Everyone laughed. "All right – we'll come back later in the week, once you've all settled in more," Doc said, patting Victor's shoulder.

"And if there's anything we can do for you in the meantime, let us know," Emily added.

"Bringing some food by wouldn't go amiss, I think," Alice said, with a glance up at Victor. "I don't think either of us will be doing much cooking right at the moment. And with Aunt Susan and Uncle Charles off in Portugal at the moment, and not due back for another week. . . ."

"We'll bring you gallons of tea and dozens of cakes," Richard promised. He gave Chester a wave. "Welcome to the world, little one!"

"You've got great parents," Marty added, as the baby yawned. "You're gonna have a fantastic life."

"Of course he is," Cheshire said, jumping onto Victoria's shoulders and draping himself around her neck like a uniquely furless wrap. "He's named after me."

Alice shook her head. "I think we've inflated his ego to dangerous levels by doing this," she commented quietly to Victor.

"That implies it wasn't already," Victor joked back, before reaching over to scratch behind Cheshire's ears. "But I think we can live with it."

Cheshire favored him with another purr. "You've dealt with much worse than me and survived."

"That we have." Victor looked around. "Thank you all so much for coming."

"Not at all," Christopher said, wrapping an arm around his shoulders for a quick side-hug. "We're honored to be a part of this moment."

Victor looked at Alice and Chester, together on the bed. Warmth flooded his whole body, leaving his internals a pleasantly gooey mess. "So am I."

"Loathe as I am to interrupt this scene, this is a final vitals scan for both mother and baby, so it _is_ important," Dr. Lawn said, making a shooing motion. "And – well – we do also need to take care of the bill, Mr. Van Dort."

"I know, I know." Victor waved his friends out. "Goodbye, everyone!"

"Bye! Take care of that baby!" Marty said.

"We'll come round with a roast or something!" Jennifer promised.

"And Emmett and I will bring sandwiches," Clara said. "Congratulations."

"Yes, we look forward to dropping by again," Doc nodded.

"Stay safe and well," Victoria told them. "I'll be back later with a blanket for him."

"And I'll make him some socks," Emily giggled, interlacing her fingers. "Oh, he's so cute – bye Chester!"

"We'll see you in a few days' time!" Christopher declared.

"Yes, and make sure to keep to your tea time!" Richard said, before exiting after his excited wife.

"We'll do our best!" Victor said, following him to the door. He paused on the threshold, taking one last look at Alice and Chester on the bed. _So – the next great adventure,_ he thought, smiling. _Fatherhood. Hopefully, it's a good one._

_And, hopefully, it won't cost me too much._ "Okay, Dr. Lawn – if you give me the bill now, I'll see about getting you the money while you do your check-up. . . ."

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \-->I've probably mentioned this before, but Dr. Lawn is borrowed from _Discworld_ \-- and his nurse is a reference to Lady Sybil from the same series, Sam Vimes's amazing wife. :)
> 
> \-->The story ending with dealing with the doctor's bill was inspired by the Player Piano story ["Nine Months and Counting"](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/2724558/1/Nine-Months-and-Counting) over on FanFiction.net, detailing the birth of Victor and Victoria's first daughter, Lydia. Fortunately my Victor's relationship with the doctor is much less adversarial!


End file.
